


your mess is mine

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Doctor Louis, Doctor/Patient, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Falling In Love, Harry Styles Has a Crush on Louis Tomlinson, Kid Fic, Louis Tomlinson Has a Crush on Harry Styles, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, No Smut, Past Harry/OFC relationship, Slow Romance, Sort Of, but once they get it together its like BAM, harry has a kid, harry worries a lot, louis is his kids doctor, louis tries to calm him down, nothing detailed anyways, ok im gonna shut up now, sorry im so bad at tagging, well... surgeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: harry styles hasn't dated in twelve years - coincidentally, that's how old his daughter is.louis tomlinson is a heart surgeon - coincidentally, harry's daughter needs heart surgery.they fall in love.(for jay, always)





	your mess is mine

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been in my drive for MONTHS - if not a whole year. i present to you, your mess is mine, also known as "CONGENITAL HEART DEFECT" by the tab that's been open in my browser for two months straight. 
> 
> i know nothing about medicine so everything in here is from google and grey's anatomy. 
> 
> pls enjoy

**SIXTY DAYS**.   
  
"Are you sure this is gonna be it?" Grace asks, legs swinging back and forth as she sits on the exam table.   


"I'm positive," Harry nods, shoving his phone in his pocket. "Doctor Tomlinson is the best in England."    


"How much longer until I can get a transplant?"    


"I don't know, darling. That's what he's going to tell us, how eligible you are for one."    


Grace hums, nodding. She doesn't ask any other questions until the door opens and a man, whom Harry presumes to be Doctor Louis Tomlinson, renowned pediatric cardio God, enters the room. Apparently he's a God in the operating room. He looks amazing and Harry should not be so taken, should not be so distracted. This is about Grace, about Grace getting better.    


"I'm Doctor Tomlinson, but you can just call me Louis, because we're going to get close over the course of this, yeah?" Doctor Tomlinson –  _ Louis _ – smiles at Grace first. 

"You must be Grace."    


"This is indeed Grace," Harry stands up to greet Louis. "I'm Harry, Grace's father."    


"Nice to meet you, Harry," Louis beams back at him, and Harry's grateful his legs don't turn to jelly.  _ Shit _ . "Now, Grace," Louis grabs the spinning chair and sits down in front of her, file in hand. "How're you feeling today?"    


Grace shrugs. "Okay. Kind of tired."    


"How was school this year?"    


"I'm not allowed to do gym anymore," she frowns, slouching a bit. "Because of my heart."    


"I know, I saw that. Don't worry, I want to work so you can do gym. And anything else you want to do. Has she been taking her medication?" Louis directs his question at Harry now.    


"Everyday." Harry nods.    


"Has she had any complications recently? Her last procedure was over a year ago, right? Open heart surgery. That one's a doozy, innit?"    


_ A doozy is an understatement.  _ "Almost two, actually," Harry nods. "Um, a few months ago she was in because she was having a really bad spell, struggling to breathe and I just… didn’t want to take any chances.”    


"Paranoia, then?" Louis smiles, marking something down on his chart.    


"Dad's always paranoid," Grace says, crossing her arms over her chest.    


"Is he now?" Louis muses. "We're gonna make it so he doesn't have to be."    


"You're going to fix my heart? For good?"    


Louis nods, setting the file on the counter. "I'm gonna see if I can get you a brand new one,” he looks at Harry, “Grace's case is urgent enough, she's had enough issues, she's had enough surgeries that make her eligible for a transplant. We've got to run the basic tests today, echocardiogram, electrocardiogram, chest-x ray. Oxygen, blood tests. The works. I'm gonna get you a gown that you can change into."    


Louis comes back with a gown for Grace. He doesn’t have a nurse bring it in, he brings it himself. Harry likes that. "Do you need me to stay, Gracie?" Harry asks, standing up.

"No, dad, you can't see me get changed!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Harry gasps, grinning. "You're a big girl now, eh?" 

Grace gives him a nasty glare until he leaves behind Louis. Once they’re outside, Harry turns to the doctor with a stern look on his face. "You really think you're going to be able to get her a heart? You're our last resort, you know." 

Louis turns around to face Harry. "You are aware that I’m one of the best pediatric surgeons around, aren’t you?”     


_ Yes, I am very much aware of that.  _ "I just… You said yourself, her condition is urgent. If we don't do something then she's going to continually end up in hospitals."    


"Right. Grace is now nearing twelve years old and she’s already had an open heart surgery that isn’t doing the trick. I know that the doctors you’ve already seen say that a transplant is a bold move, but I see it as a sensible one."    


"Do you have kids, Louis?" Harry asks, biting his lip.    


"I don't, no."   


"This  _ is _ a sensible move. I don’t want to worry about if the holes are staying closed, or if there's a blockage in her heart. Grace is my whole world, and I want her to be okay, long term."    


"That's why I'm going to do everything I can, Harry."    


Harry nods, satisfied with Louis' answer. "Thank you."    


"I'll have a nurse get started on the tests, and I'll be back."    


Louis walks away, stopping at the nurses station to speak with one of the female nurses standing there. He laughs at something she says, bright and loud in the hospital hallways, and she blushes at whatever his reply is. Harry watches Doctor Tomlinson float around the hospital floor while he waits to go into Grace's room until she finally opens the door and lets him back in. "Okay?" he asks.    


"I'm eleven, please stop." She groans, and Harry holds his hands up in apology. He can't help but note how grown up she seems, and that she is only eleven. His heart could burst with how much he loves her. "What did you think of Doctor Tomlinson?"    


"He's nice. Word on the street says he’s a pediatric god, will surely do a lot of good."    


"What else did you think of him?"    


"I don't know, Gracie, I don't really know him."    


"Did you know he's thirty-one years old?"    


"Really, now? And how would you know that?”    


"Mmhmm. And that doesn’t matter."    


Harry is silent for a moment, then it clicks. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, young lady?"    


"I don't know," she says nonchalantly. "It depends."   


"Grace London Styles! I don't appreciate you trying to set me up with people. Also. How do you know he's my type?

"You should appreciate it, very much. You're not doing it yourself. And he’s  _ anyone’s  _ type. None of that stuff matters anyway.”

Harry goes to say something else, but he stops himself as Louis walks back in. "Harry, if you could, there's a nurse outside at the reception desk there's some paperwork that has to be filled out. I'll get started on the echocardiogram." 

"I thought you said a nurse was gonna do it." Grace says, narrowing her eyes.    


"Well, I like getting to know my patients better, and I prefer doing the tests myself so they're done right. Alright with you, Miss Styles?" Louis quirks an eyebrow, grabbing the portable ultrasound machine.    


Grace hums, nodding. Harry kisses her head before glancing once at Louis and heading out.    


"Lay back for–" Louis goes to say, but Grace cuts him off with confidence.    


"I know. Lay back, and you're gonna put that over my heart. And it's gonna show me a picture of my heart."    


Louis laughs softly, nodding. "Done this before?" he asks teasingly.    


She smiles back. "You get the hang of it."    


"You're eleven, right?" Louis asks, placing the wand over her heart.    


"Almost twelve, but, yes."    


"How does your dad handle this? And you?"    


"I probably handle it better than dad," Grace admits. "What kind of music do you listen to?"    


Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Hm. I don't know, anything, really. Why are you asking?"    


Grace shrugs one shoulder and tilts her head up to look at the monitor. "It looks the same as last time. What does that mean?"    


"Well, it doesn’t mean anything bad. D’you think we’re friends?”

“Well…” Grace drawls, looking at Louis curiously. “I suppose we could be. Why do you ask?”

“Can I ask you a bit of a personal question?" 

"That's what doctors do, isn't it?"    


_ She’s nothing if not quick.  _ "This one's not medical, love,” he tells her, and Grace nods regardless. "Where's your mum?"    


"I don't know. I asked dad once, but he said doesn't know either. Now can I ask you a personal question?"    


"I suppose it's only fair. You can sit up now."    


Grace sits up and re-snaps the button on her gown. "Do you have a family?"    


He’s a bit caught off-guard by her question. Grace is very forward. Louis holds his stethoscope up over her heart. "Depends. What are you talking about, in terms of  family?"    


"A wife. Or a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, I guess that too. Or kids."    


"I don't." Louis answers, putting the stethoscope around his neck again. "Alright if I draw some blood?"    


Grace lets her arm fall down to her side, ready for blood to be drawn.    


"Have you been feeling lightheaded lately?" Louis asks.    


"It's not weird when I do," Grace replies. "It happens sometimes."    


"Have your fingers or toes been turning blue or purple?"    


Grace thinks for a moment. "Not that I remember."    


"Should we ask your dad?"    


"Ask me what?" Harry closes the door behind him, finally back from filling out paperwork.     


"Have my fingers been turning blue?" Grace asks. 

"Not since your last surgery, I don’t think."    


Louis nods. "Alright. I'm gonna have a nurse finish up these tests and get you guys ready to go home. I want to see you again soon. If anything changes with her condition,  bring her in immediately. If – God forbid – something serious happens, we'll be able to get her higher up on the transplant list. Not like I want anything bad to happen, but  the sooner she's in and taken care of the sooner we could get the transplant."    


"Okay. Thank you so much." 

Louis leaves the Styles’ in awe of how mature Grace is at such a young age, but  knows that maturity is what happens when you’ve got somebody who is sick.    
  
****

**FIFTY-SEVEN DAYS.**

  
It's a Saturday, and Saturday's are meant for shopping in the Styles household. Essential food shopping and pleasure shopping as well. It's in a clothing store in the mall that Harry is bumped into, quite literally. He’s looking at these jeans, and someone just walks right into him. Harry nearly collapses when he realizes it's Louis. As in Doctor Louis Tomlinson.   


"Oh," Louis murmurs. "Funny seeing you here, eh?"    


"Yeah," Harry laughs. "Saturday's we shop."    


"I do the same. It’s me only day off. Well, on call," Louis smiles. "Those are some awfully skinny jeans, no?"    


"That's an awfully orange sweater, no?"   


Louis laughs, looking down at the sweater in his hands. "For my sister's fiance, actually. It's his birthday, I needed to get something."    


“And he wears ugly orange sweaters." Harry deadpans. 

"It's not that bad."    


"It's awful," Harry laughs. If Gemma’s husband came home with a sweater like _that_ for Harry, Harry would be extremely offended that Matthew ever thought he’d wear something so hideous. "But, okay. Good luck with that."   


"How's Grace?"    


"She's doing well. She had a little situation earlier but it's been taken care of."    


"What happened?"    


"She was having some chest pains, but it passed. I think she took the stairs too fast.”    
Louis looks concerned. "Keep an eye on that."   


"Trust me, I know."  _ No one fusses over Grace like I fuss over Grace.  _   


They part ways not much longer, Louis heading back the way he came. He locates Niall, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Louis groans, dropping the sweater and heading out into the mall. "I'm fucked."    


"Something unethical?" Niall quirks an eyebrow.    


"Potentially."    


"What?"   


"There's this patient. Well, a patient's father—"   


"Before you keep going, two things. Is he married, and is he gay?" Niall asks. "Those things need to be known immediately. They’re vital in me assessing your situation and telling you what to do."    


"No, he’s not married. As for the gay thing… I don’t know.” Louis replies, and Niall nods. "But as far as I know he's single. His daughter is eleven, she's got a serious congenital heart defect and is waiting for a transplant. He's not much younger than I am, I'm pretty sure he's at least twenty eight, maybe? Can’t be younger than that."    


"Alright. We can handle his sexuality thing at a later point. Next problem: aren't Doctor-patient relationships—"   


"Not right? Not allowed? Forbidden? Unethical? All of the above?"    


"What do you know about him? What could you have to fall in love with if—"   


"Whoa, whoa. Slow it down, Romeo. I never said anything about falling in love. He may pose an issue because I may end up hooking up with him, or something."    


"Aren't you a little old for hookups?" Niall asks teasingly.    


"Fuck you," Louis spits.    


At this same time, back in the clothing store, Harry is being prodded about Louis. By his own eleven year old daughter. Oh, what a world.   


"He's nice," Grace says, dropping another shirt into the cart.    


"I know he is, Gracie."    


"You're not secretly dating anyone, are you?"    


"If I was I don't have to explain myself to my eleven year old daughter—"   


"Eleven," Grace corrects. "And, you should tell me. We’re family.” 

"I'm not. Secretly dating anyone. And I'm certainly not dating your doctor, as I think you might be suggesting I do. I'm pretty sure that isn't allowed."    


"Hm. I think you could make it work." 

Somehow Grace has more faith in Harry’s love life than he’d ever had in his own.    
  
****

**FIFTY-THREE DAYS.**   


  
"Dad?" Grace calls, dropping her pencil onto the table. "I need help."   


"What's wrong?" Harry comes into the dining room immediately at the sound of Grace's voice.    


She rolls her eyes. "Nothing. I just need help with this math project."    


Harry exhales a sigh of relief. "I can’t believe they gave you homework over the summer. You do know I nearly flunked maths when I was in school, right?"    


"You couldn't have been that bad."    


Harry knows full well that Grace is a ticking time bomb. The heart in her chest is a bomb, ready to go off at any time. That's why whenever Harry hears her call his name with the tiniest hint of stress in it, he immediately begins worrying. She could form a clot, or her heart could just… stop working. A tear could form, there are endless possibilities to what could go wrong. It’s no wonder that Harry worries. The online forums say that there’s little he can do to stop himself from worrying. 

He helps her with the math, and then struggles to bring up the topic he hates discussing. Her health. "How are you feeling?"    


Grace slumps back in her chair. "Fine."    


"Are you sure a transplant is what you want?"    


"It might not even happen."    


"But if something happens... and they have a heart and you can get it, do I give them the go ahead? Do—"   


"You tell me not to talk about the bad things and here you are, talking about them!" she exclaims. "I don't know, dad. I don't know."    


"I don't know either, Grace, that's why we should talk about it. It's a big deal, it's your life!"    


"Well I don't know."    


"Grace, we—"  He cuts himself off when her chair makes an awful screeching sound as it slides across the floor. Grace opens her mouth to say something, but promptly closes it and stomps off.    


Harry runs a hand through his hair and lets her walk away.   
  


Grace comes back downstairs not even an hour later, arms folded over her chest. "I'm sorry," she says, startling Harry. He's searching for something to cook for dinner (but coming up empty in both resources and motivation).    


"What?" He asks. He heard her loud and clear, so Harry's not quite sure why he asks for the statement to be repeated.    


"I said I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stomped off like that."    


"Well I shouldn't have yelled, Gracie. I know this is a lot, I know it’s scary and you don’t like talking about it. I don’t like talking about the what if’s either. I don’t want to think about what could happen, but we should. If you can’t get the transplant, or if Louis isn’t as godlike as he may seem.” 

“I think… I don’t think we need to worry about that. I think he’s perfectly godlike, and I think that my heart’s bad enough that I’ll get the healthy one. I don’t think we can afford to think about anything other than that, can we? We have to be positive.” 

“Jesus Christ, G,” Harry exhales, shaking his head. 

“You know I’m right,” she sings, rocking back and forth on her heels. “So just admit it and we’ll get over it.” 

“You are right.” Harry admits, still shaking his head. She’s so fucking grown up. Grace breaks out into a smile that makes her look just like her mother. Harry turns back to the cabinet. 

 

**FIFTY DAYS.**

 

“She’s been really, really pale lately,” Harry says, studying Louis carefully. “She’s been eating and drinking properly, though I guess she could be drinking a little bit more.” 

Louis nods, listening carefully to the beat of Grace’s heart with a hand on her wrist to feel the pulse. “Pulse does seem a little weak. Hm. I think I’d like to do an echocardiogram and use the ultrasound machine to get a view of her heart as it is right now. If we have to maybe a CT or MRI. We’ll go from the ultrasound and the echo. Sound good?” 

Grace nods. “Fine.” 

“Alright, great. Someone, if not myself, will be in here in a few minutes. Can I talk to you outside?” he looks at Harry, who nods and stands up. 

Outside, Harry follows Louis over to the nurses station where Louis opens up Grace’s folder. “Has she had any shortness of breath recently? Since she started getting paler.” 

“Yeah, but that always happens. She’s been saying that she isn’t hungry, but I’ve been making her eat at least  _ something _ because I know how important it is.” 

“Alright. I’m not surprised about the lack of oxygen, it is a cyanotic defect after all. Any blue spells lately?”

“A few days ago, that was the last time.” 

Louis nods, closing the file and meeting Harry’s eyes. “What do you do when that happens?” he asks. 

“Exactly what they told me to do. Change her position, but if it’s really bad I give her oxygen.” 

“Next time that happens I want you to call me.” 

“I did tell her other–” 

“I don’t care about her other doctor, I want to know. Because that could impact her chances of getting a heart.” Louis says sternly. “I want to know when it happens, so you contact me immediately.” 

Harry nods quickly. “Yes, of course.” 

“She is on the transplant list, we’re just waiting for her to be bumped up. If something drastic happens, I’m going to do absolutely everything I can to get that heart for her.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Doctor Tomlinson,” a nurse calls. “She's having a blue spell.” 

Louis is in the room in a second, assessing the situation. Harry is wide eyed and worried, wanting to help but staying back when Louis tells him too. 

“Let's get her on oxygen,” Louis instructs. “How long has it been?” 

“Over a minute, Doctor.” 

“Has it ever been this long?” Louis asks, looking for an answer from Harry but watching Grace as she shakes her head in reply to the question as well. 

“No, never. Is she gonna be okay?”

“She's gonna be fine. Just breathe, Grace. In and out. Lay down, on your side. Knees up to your chest, come on.” he coaxes, laying her down and holding the oxygen mask to her face. “You know what to do, right?” 

She nods. Louis sits there with her, talking to Grace through the whole thing. Her breathing settles down a only few moments later, Harry exhaling a heavy breath of his own. He checks on his daughter before following Louis outside again. “It's never been that bad or that long,” he says. “What does that mean?” 

“She wasn't getting enough oxygen. Because it lasted for so long, it means that blood flow was severely limited. That obviously isn't good.” 

“What do we do about it then?” 

“Watch her, just like always. Depending on how all these tests go, we might want to keep her here for a little while. I’ve got to go check on other patients, but if you need anything or anything happens, just have someone page me.” 

Louis makes his rounds, his favourite patient (even though he's not supposed to pick favourites) is a boy who is waiting for a kidney and receiving dialysis treatment in the meantime. He’s fourteen. Louis likes him because he reminds Louis of himself; brutally honest, sarcastic, and bold.  _ And _ he’s a Rovers fan. 

“How're we doing today?” he asks, sitting down on the edge of Connor’s bed. 

“Fine. Wondering who the hell has my kidney.”  

“I know you want a kidney, but you shouldn’t forget that–”

“Somebody else has to die in order to save me,” Connor recites. “I know. Can you tell me about your other patients today? Is there anyone new?” 

“There is, she's eleven. Has a congenital heart defect.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Her heart wasn’t… built right. When she was born it was deemed livable, but now it’s only getting worse.” Louis’ gotten pretty good over the course of his career at explaining conditions to children. It has to be in terms they can understand and a way that the parents can comprehend and still manage to hold onto some hope. 

“Is that all you can tell me?” 

“Yeah, that's it.” 

“Does she have family? She's not alone, is she?” 

“No, she's not alone. She has her father. That's it, though.” 

Connor nods slowly. Louis can practically see the gears turning in Connor’s head. “What about her father?” Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Is he married? Single? Sleeping around?” 

“Jesus,” Louis mutters, shaking his head and standing up. “Your BP and oxygen look good, you're gonna get a CT later today. I'll be back when I can.” 

“Find out the answer to my question!” Connor calls. “It might be good!” 

Louis rolls his eyes, hanging the tablet up to be charged and taking a new one, signing in and pulling up Grace’s file. She was born premature, her mother a drug addict. They weren’t able to get a transplant when Grace was a baby, but the condition was livable. Until now, as Grace is getting older the condition is getting worse and worse. The blue spell she just had is evidence of this being true. A heart transplant seems to be the best bet, especially if they want to see long term results. 

“Doctor Tomlinson, you’re needed in the OR stat.” 

Louis knows that tone of voice, hears the urgency and need. It’s a simple bowel resection which has somehow gone south with the other attending and resident. Louis is apparently the only other experience surgeon available. 

That’s how he ends up in the middle of an already hour long surgery for another three and a half. Much longer than a bowel resection should ever take. Louis keeps checking the OR clock, wondering how Grace is doing and wondering how  _ Harry  _ is doing. Louis knows how agonizing it is to have someone sick and in the hospital, each day bringing new obstacles and new uncertainty. Every word from the doctor feeling like you’re losing oxygen fast but don’t want to get back on the spaceship. But Harry’s doing it by himself, as far as Louis knows. Just him and Grace, that’s it. Louis doesn’t know how he does it. 

It’s after seven when Louis finally gets out of the OR, scrubbing out and heading back to the pediatrics ward to do one final check on his patients before  _ hopefully _ heading home for the night. Grace is his last stop, and maybe Louis planned it out that way so he’d have plenty of time to talk to her (and Harry). 

He walks in on Grace sleeping and Harry sitting in the chair by the window, nearly the same. He gets up as soon as he sees Louis come in the room. “How’s she doing?” Louis asks, checking her heart rate. 

“She’s been asleep for hours.” Harry replies, stretching. Louis looks over just in time to see a sliver of his shirt ride up, revealing a sliver of tanned skin.  _ Shit _ . “Probably a good thing, right?” 

“Definitely,” Louis agrees, nodding. “She’ll need it.” 

“Do you really think you’re going to be able to get her a heart?” 

“She’s on the transplant list. I’m going to do every single thing I can, like I told you.” 

“Grace thinks if she amps up the charm you’ll be able to get her a heart sooner, but I explained that isn’t how it works.” Harry says, smiling widely. 

“Depending on how much charm we’re talking, I might be able to do something. She seems very manipulative.” 

Harry laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “She is, very, very captivating. Gets everyone wrapped around her finger.” 

“I imagine she has to get it from someone,” Louis murmurs. 

Harry stares at him, probably for a beat too long. “Yeah, you think so? Definitely not her mother, I can tell you that much.” 

Louis heads for the door, looking over his shoulder to see if Harry is following. He is. They stand just outside Grace’s door, far enough that they can’t wake her up by talking, but they can’t not get there if something happens. “If she doesn’t get it from her mother she must get it from you, then.” Louis says. 

“Obviously,” Harry laughs, light and floaty. “You think it’s from me?” 

“I do.” Louis nods. 

Harry smiles even wider. “Mhm. Alright, thanks, I guess.” 

“Grace can be discharged in the morning,” Louis clears his throat, adjusting his stance from what was  clearly a more casual and flirty one. Zayn calls him out on it all the time, and usually Louis catches himself. He didn’t this time, though. “We’ll keep her here overnight. After that blue spell, I think it’s best to be safe. Unless you’d rather take her home?” 

Harry shakes his head. “Nope, it’s fine. If you think that’s best.” 

“And visiting hours will be up soon, but I’ll let you stay, make sure nobody tries to kick you out. Just because she’s so young.” 

“Thanks for breaking the rules, then.” 

“Of course. Make sure you try to get some rest as well.” 

“Thank you, Doctor Tomlinson.” 

“I thought we established Louis.” 

“Fine. Thank you.  _ Louis _ .” Harry corrects, drawing out Louis’ name in a way that has Louis’ ears longing more, wanting to hear Harry say his name like that for the rest of time. 

When Louis finally gets home, it’s just past nine. He makes himself a microwavable dinner that isn’t really that good and feels himself start to wallow.

Louis has come a long way since he became a surgeon. Ten years ago if you asked him if he’d be living on his own with a job as a high-profile surgeon, Louis probably would’ve gasped and taken offense. He assumed he’d have a partner by now, but these surgeries are tough. A surgeon’s hours suck, in the words of Louis’ sister Lottie, and it’s impossible to find the time or effort to put towards a real relationship. If you asked twenty year old Louis if he thought ten years in the future, he’d be walking out the door late at night for any reason other than to have a smoke, he would call you crazy. Quitting smoking was something Louis never envisioned for himself. Here he is, though, ten years later sometimes leaving in the middle of the night to go back into the hospital without worrying about where his pack of cigarettes is. 

Louis finally checks the messages on his cell phone, a voicemail from his sister and Niall, respectively. That’s all. He figures it’ll be too late now to call anyone back, even Niall’s passed out by this time on a good day. 

His sleep doesn't last for long, because apparently he's the only  _ fucking  _ attending on call for the night, so when a teenage patient is in the ER for chest pains, Louis gets a call. 

He's used to it, though, so it's whatever. 

 

********

 

“I don't like this food, dad,” Grace whines, staring at the tray of food Harry brought up from the cafeteria. “Why can't I just wait until we go home? Can't you make me something at home?” 

“Because I don't know  _ when  _ we’re going home, G. You know how these discharges work. You need to eat now.” 

She sighs, now frowning at the tray. Louis comes in before she’s even touched the food, Harry still urging her to eat. “Good morning,” Louis sings. “How was the night?” 

“It was alright. Don’t you have any better food?” Grace asks hopefully, sitting up a little straighter. 

Louis laughs softly, looking at what she has on the tray. “After many years working in hospitals, I’ve learned that the food sucks. I wanna send you for one more CT so we can check to see how everything held up in there overnight, and when you get back I’ll have something good for you.” 

Her face lights up at this. “So, you said the night went well?” Louis asks, looking to Harry for an answer. “Nobody gave you any trouble?”

“Nope. Chair’s are rather uncomfortable, but that’s the only trouble I had.” Harry replies. 

“I figured. I know those suck too. Hopefully we don’t have too many more nights like this.” he says, smiling. 

Harry can feel his chest tighten at the sight of the grin Louis flashes him. God fucking dammit, this isn’t ending well. He can already see himself crashing and burning. Harry doesn’t know how it’s going to end or why it isn’t going to be a good outcome. He feels like Louis might just fuck up everything he’s known for a long, long time. 

When they take Grace down for her CT, Harry waits outside for her. She yaps the entire way back up to her room afterwards, about what Louis could have possibly brought. In the room, there’s a couple cups of pudding sitting on the table, with a handwritten note. After Grace reads it excitedly, she hands it to Harry and tears into the pudding. 

_ Hospital food sucks. I keep pudding in the fridge in my office - for emergencies. I’ll share it for you, which is a step, since I don’t typically share my pudding with anyone. You just have to promise to share some with your dad, too. See you as soon as possible xx louis  _

“Here, dad,” Grace says, holding a cup of pudding out to Harry. “Louis said I should share with you.” 

Harry smiles, taking the cup from her and picking up a spoon. “Thanks, love.” he whispers, sitting at the end of her bed. 

“He’s nice. A good doctor too. And he lets us call him Louis, which is cool.” Grace says thoughtfully, pointing her spoon at Harry. “He seems like a nice person outside of the hospital, too. Like that day we saw him in the mall, remember?” 

“I do remember, yes.” 

“I think he likes you,” She blurts, grinning widely at her father. His eyes go wide, coughing. “What? Don’t look at me like that!” 

“What makes you think that, Gracie?” Harry asks, somehow managing to compose himself in order to have a civilized discussion with his almost-twelve-year-old-daughter. 

Grace shrugs. “I dunno. Just seems like it.” 

Before Harry can say anything else about it, a nurse comes in and informs that Louis will be stopping by briefly before his next surgery to look at Grace’s CT and make sure she gets discharged. Harry thanks her and sets his cup of pudding down on the table. “You have to finish it,” Grace urges. “Louis said I have to share.” 

“You did share.” 

“Finish it.” She frowns, glaring at him. Harry rolls his eyes and picks up the cup again, continuing to eat the rest of the pudding. 

By the time they finish their puddings, Louis comes in with Grace’s file, already looking at the results of the CT. “Nothing seems to have changed here,” he says, studying them carefully. “Everything still looks good. If she has another blue spell like that, contact me immediately.” 

“That’s it?” Harry asks. 

Louis finally looks up at him. “Yup. That’s it. If anything changes with the opportunity for a transplant, I’ll get in touch the moment I know anything. No physical activity, as per usual. You should really take it easy, especially after the blue spell yesterday. Eat, drink. Plenty of fluids.” 

“No gym?” Grace asks, just for clarification, Harry assumes. Then he realizes that she’s probably just using it as a ploy to get Louis to stay for longer. 

They’re having a full on conversation now, Louis and Grace, about how Grace used to love playing sports. Grace is about to start speaking again when Harry coughs and stands up. “I’m sure Doctor Tomlinson has a surgery to get to, Grace.” 

“I do, actually, but all I’ve got to do is scrub in. Doesn’t take more than three minutes. And, I told you, it’s Louis.”

 

**FORTY-SEVEN DAYS.**

 

“Dad,” Grace says, sticking her head in the door. “I want to have a big birthday party this year.” 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” 

“I  _ mean  _ maybe I won't get a transplant, or maybe something bad will happen. And I want to have a big birthday.” 

That is the kind of thinking Harry doesn't like. At all. He clears his throat and shuts his laptop. “I thought that we shouldn't be thinking like that, love. Isn't that what we decided?” 

“I know,” Grace sighs. “But still. Can we have a big party?” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“A  _ party,  _ dad. With a dress and tons of people and a big cake and music and dancing and a bar and everything. A sweet sixteen except… a sweet…  _ twelve _ .” 

Harry takes a deep breath. “You do?” 

She nods. “Grace’s Twelfth Birthday Bash. I can see it already.” 

“Um, okay. We’ll have to talk more about it, obviously. Think about it. But okay.” 

He can't exactly say no. Harry has sworn to give Grace everything that she could possibly need. He's sworn this to her, to her mother, to his own mother, to everyone saying that he wouldn't be able to raise a little girl all by himself. He's especially sworn it to himself. And, as much as he hates to admit it, she might not get the transplant. Something could go horribly wrong at any moment. Grace deserves to have a big party if Louis can’t give her the solution they so desperately need. If Louis can’t help them lock down a sixteenth birthday, a secondary graduation, a uni graduation, a wedding aisle walk, and grandchildren, then Harry should at least get what he can. 

Harry can feel tears sting his eyes when he thinks of the possibility of Grace not making it, not making it at any point. She’s his entire world, has been since the day she was born, will be until the day he leaves this world and even after that, depending on what he chooses to believe. He closes the tab he was using to research Doctor Louis Tomlinson’s achievements (Harry needs to make sure he’s a respectable and skilled surgeon, alright?) and opens a word document to begin planning out this so-called birthday bash. 

“Dad.” Grace says pointedly. “You can’t plan it.” 

Harry turns to look at her. “Excuse me?” 

“You get stressed out when you plan things. And you always do it the way you want to and not the way  _ I  _ want to.” 

Harry frowns. “Are you too old for me to plan a birthday for you?” 

Grace rolls her eyes. “I just don’t like the way you do these things.” 

“Don’t like the way I–what are you talking about, Gracie? What does that mean!?” 

“It means you’re old and fail to understand teen hobbies and lingo. You don’t know what my friends will be into. You don’t know what’s cool.” 

“I am  _ very  _ cool, Gracie. Don’t I know all the words to the songs on the radio?” he appears scandalized, but he knows that saying something like that only digs him into a deeper hole with her. Even if he's kidding. “Really, love. You can have whatever you want, alright?” 

Grace nods, satisfied. Then, she asks, “when’s my next doctor’s appointment?” 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Not for like two weeks. Why? Is something wrong?” 

She shrugs. “No, I feel fine. I was… just wondering.” 

He  _ knows  _ that she’s meddling. His daughter is worse than his own mum sometimes. But Harry knows not to feed into Grace’s antics, because that only adds fuel to the fire and gives her more power on the field. 

“I want to have a pretty dress. Nana and aunt Gemma can take me dress shopping.” 

“They could come–”

Grace shakes her head, sitting on the edge of Harry’s desk. “No. They can take me. I don’t want you to come. You get worried and micromanage-y whenever we go shopping for me.” 

“Are you trying to tell me that you don't need me anymore?” 

“You always overreact!” Grace exclaims. “That’s so not what I was saying, dad.” 

Harry looks at her in shock. Grace takes the laptop and starts typing something, head down and brows drawn together in focus. Harry can’t stop thinking about how much she looks like her mother, and it absolutely breaks his heart for a reason he can’t exactly pin and he has to get up abruptly. “I’ll be downstairs, you can bring me whatever you decide on, okay?” 

Grace glances up at him, nods, and looks down again without saying a word. 

Harry heads downstairs, taking his phone and handwritten planner from the kitchen island and sitting down on the couch. He always makes sure his phone calendar has all of the same things his handwritten calendar has. He can’t afford to have mixups, between events for Grace and Grace’s doctor appointments and his own career (he’s a photographer; weddings, children’s birthday parties, the works), it could get hard to keep everything in line if he doesn’t stay on top of it. 

Grace has a doctor appointment next Tuesday, one where she’ll get blood taken and a CT and they’ll probably have to see Louis. On Wednesday Grace has a dance class, except he’s not sure she can still dance with the whole heart thing, so that’s a question he’ll have to ask Doctor Tomlinson. He makes a note of that in his phone notes so he doesn’t forget come the appointment next Tuesday. Harry has a wedding to shoot on Saturday night, which means Grace will either be at one of her friends’ houses or with Harry’s mother, who is always overly eager to watch Grace. It makes Harry nervous whenever he needs to leave Grace, even for the shortest amount of time and even if he is just a short drive away. 

Harry loses track of time as he pores over the schedule, he doesn’t look up again until he hears Grace come down the stairs. She comes slowly, like she always does whenever she’s confronted with the task of stairs. Harry wants to move her bedroom downstairs, but Grace refuses. 

He resists the urge to make a fuss over her and lets Grace come to him on the couch on her own. 

“Are you busy?” she asks, laptop under her arm. 

“No, love. What’ve you got?” 

“I want to invite all of my friends. And I want to have a party. With a DJ. And a dance floor. And good music.” 

“I told you, you could have whatever you wanted.” 

“We should get invitations out as soon as possible, there’s not that much time before my birthday is actually here. I’ll have to decide who I want to come and who I don’t. Obviously Uncle Liam and Uncle Zayn can come, and Aunt Gemma and Uncle Matt and Zoe and Nana. My friends from school and dance and footie, too. But I’m not sure which ones. And I want Aunt Gemma to take me to find a dress, I’ve already decided that.” 

Grace keeps rambling on and on, about the dress and the cake and the DJ and the cupcakes and Harry just sits back and listens to her. Finally, Grace stops, takes a breath. She closes the laptop and looks up at her father with wide eyes. “Why haven’t you said anything?” 

Harry shrugs, taking the computer from him. “You’re very smart, love. Passionate.” 

Grace rolls her eyes. “ _ Okay.”  _ she muses, standing up. “I’m going to go do that math. You can look at my planning document if you want to.” 

“Wow. Thanks for the permission, Gracie.” 

 

**FORTY-FIVE DAYS.**

 

“You’re fucking getting married today!” Louis exclaims, grabbing Zayn by the shoulders and shaking him. “I’m your best man!” 

“Yes you are,” Zayn replies, looking somewhere over Louis’ shoulder. “Do you think it’s bad if I get drunk before my own wedding?”

“You cannot do that. Later you can get smashed, though. Totally smashed.”  

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’m a bit nervous. This is a wedding.” 

“Yeah, that’s what this is. You proposed, didn’t you? You’ve known this day was coming for a while now.” 

“Z! The photographer is here!” his mother calls. 

“Ooh, fancy photographer hired.”

“You’re not gonna get called into the hospital, are you?” Zayn asks, completely ignoring the photographer statement. 

Louis shakes his head. Truthfully, he could very well get called in, and Zayn knows that very well. But he’ll pray and hope and have a little faith that he’ll get to stay here today. Zayn nods and heads to greet the photographer. Louis stops dead in his tracks when he sees the photographer: it’s Harry. As in one of his patients’ fathers. 

Zayn turns to introduce Louis to the photographer. “Louis, this is my friend and–” 

“We actually know each other already,” Harry says, nodding. 

Louis nods. His brain is screaming  _ I had no idea they knew each other. FUCK!!!  _ “Yes, we do. Harry’s, um… his daughter is a patient of mine, actually.” 

Zayn’s eyes go wide as he turns to look at Louis, nodding slowly. “ _ Oh.  _ Okay, good. Well, Harry’s gonna be taking pictures tonight. I’ve got weddingly duties to attend to, so.” 

Louis tries to get him to stay and chat for a moment, even though he knows that Zayn will do the exact opposite of that. But Zayn leaves, leaves Louis standing in front of Harry without a clue why he feels so odd. 

“Funny seeing you here?” Harry says, laughing just a bit. 

“You’re a photographer? For weddings?” 

“And kids’ birthday parties. Among other things.” Harry smiles. “You’re not getting married today, are you?” 

Louis laughs. “No, I’m not. Zayn’s my best friend. I’m his best man.” 

“Ah, I see. Thought maybe I was here for your wedding, and if I was, I would’ve felt absolutely betrayed, needing to avenge my daughter’s honor. She’s in love with you, I’m vaguely sure.” 

“Yeah, Grace is the one, right? I suppose I’ll take that compliment. And I’ll give her a call later. Shame, I would’ve brought her as my plus one.” 

 

Louis makes it through the ceremony, managing to forget that Harry is walking around snapping pictures of the entire thing, taking pictures of  _ Louis  _ standing there. The second he’s released from the party pictures, Louis gets his hands on the flute of champagne as soon as it’s put in front of him. 

“You know you gotta stand up and give a speech, right?” Liam asks, leaning over Zayn to ask the question. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna give the speech of your life. Gonna knock Niall’s out of the park.” 

Louis stands up, calling the attention of the room. “My job as best man includes three things; keep my groomsman from getting drunk, get my groomsman to the wedding, and deliver one killer speech. Two out of three of those things are done, and now this is the third. I’ve known Zayn and Liam for a long, long time now, and I’ve seen their journey through love and equality since it first started. In fact, I set them up in the first place, which I pride myself on. The love in this room is absolutely astounding, not only between my two best friends but between all of  _ you  _ and  _ them.  _ You’re all here because you believe in love and you love  _ their  _ love, and I want to thank you for that, honestly. I want to thank Zayn for picking me as his best man, I want to thank all of you for coming out. The love here is incredible and I’m so glad I have the honor of being here tonight.” 

Louis sits down again, proud look on his face. “You’re a giant sap,” Zayn says under his breath. “But thank you.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Louis mutters. “My speech is better than Niall’s. Especially seeing as Niall is borderline drunk already.” 

Once toasts have finished the dance floor floods, Louis hangs back and floats around, talking to people and sometimes just watching. He keeps his hands off the alcohol after having the one glass of champagne because he isn’t sure when he’ll get called in to the hospital. 

“You seem pretty laid back today,” someone behind him says, and Louis is 

almost startled by how close they are. 

Louis turns to see who it is, completely unsurprised to see Harry. “Shouldn’t you be taking pictures?” 

Harry holds his camera up to his eye and it clicks a few times before he lets it down again. “I’ve been taking them all night, don’t worry.” 

“Do you get paid to stand around and talk to wedding guests?” 

“Only the pretty ones,” Harry replies easily, clicking the camera a few more times. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of pictures and the reception is only halfway over. I’m pulling my weight here.” 

Louis nods. “I believe it, don’t worry. I can’t wait to see them.” 

“So. No drinks for you?” Harry asks, his back to Louis as he zooms in on Zayn on the dance floor with one of his sisters. 

“Were you expecting me to be a heavy drinker? I am a doctor, and I pride myself on being alcohol free,” Louis can’t even keep a straight face as he says it, which makes Harry laugh. “I just can’t drink  _ now  _ because I’m on call.” 

“Aren’t you like… always on call?” 

“Not if I proper take the day off. But on call they could get me at any point. Right now, technically.” 

They continue chatting while Harry takes pictures from his spot on the sidelines until Harry’s phone rings. Louis watches the look on his face go from happy to terrified within a few seconds and Louis just knows that there’s something wrong with Grace. 

Harry doesn’t turn to Louis again after the phone call ends, he just heads off and finds Zayn, appearing to frantically explain something, with which Zayn glances at Louis. When Harry takes off for the door, Louis cuts him off there. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Grace. My mum called, she’s got Grace in A&E and they think she’s having a stroke. I have to go. I feel like shit about it but-” 

“Give me your keys.” 

“What?” 

“Give me your car keys, I’ll drive you there.” 

“No, you should stay! It’s your best friend's wedding.” 

“I’d be getting called in the second someone got their hands on Grace’s chart and saw that I’m on her case. I’m driving you, Harry. We’re going, let’s go.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything the entire drive to the hospital, not even about how the wedding was or how maybe Louis shouldn’t be driving (Harry seems like the kind of guy to bring up the one glass of champagne). 

“Doctor Tomlinson,” A nurse says, shocked by Louis’ presence in the ER. “Aren’t you supposed to be–”

“Grace Styles, what bay is she in?” Louis asks, looking around the quiet room. Louis’ question is answered when a woman – Harry’s mother, he presumes – comes out from the curtains and Harry rushes to her. 

Louis follows, finding a lower-level doctor standing over Grace’s still body. “Have you got her to CT yet?” he asks, taking the chart from the doctor and reading it over. 

“We were just getting her there.” 

“Okay, thank you. Can you make sure it’s ready up there?” 

The doctor leaves and Louis looks to the woman. “When did her symptoms 

start?” 

“Forty five minutes ago? I brought her in as soon as I noticed there was 

something wrong.” 

“What did you notice?” 

“She was dizzy, talking nonsense, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t think 

she was having a stroke!”

“We’re gonna get her up to CT now and get to the bottom of this. She’d only be stroking if there was a severe stoppage of blood flow to her brain and the CT will tell us. If it is, then we’ll get her on a clot buster.” Louis says. 

It takes less than five minutes to get an unconscious Grace up to CT, while Louis is filled in by a nurse and Harry is left to be comforted by his mother. He approaches them again only after it seems Harry has calmed down a bit. 

“What does this do for the transplant?” Harry asks, looking at Louis carefully. 

“This is even more reason for her to have one.” Louis says as he loosens his tie and cuffs the sleeves of his shirt. He hates that he got called away from Zayn and Liam’s wedding and now has to treat Grace while wearing his nice tuxedo shirt and pants. But this needs to be done, Grace needs to take top priority. Louis won’t allow himself or any other hospital staff to treat her without the utmost priority. “The condition of her heart is worsening. The fact that she might be in the beginning stages of a stroke means that a clot may have passed through the vessel and made its way to the brain. It’s easily stopped, once we determine whether or not she’s really stroking. Delusions and dizziness are common with congenital heart defects, if she’s not getting enough oxygen or if she’s having something as simple as an allergic reaction to her meds.” 

“So this might not be a stroke?” 

“It might not be. Either way, I’m a bit concerned for the condition of her heart. We’ll get an echo and take her blood and the rest of her vitals like we usually do, once she comes back from the CT.” 

“Louis. What if this is a stroke?” Harry asks, voice stern and serious. 

“If it’s a stroke then we’ll treat it. We’ll watch her and we’ll move forward with our plans for a transplant. I know… I know this is scary, but I’m going to do everything I can to get this to work out right.” 

Harry is silent for a moment, arms folded over his chest. Louis gives him the time to process and cope. “Okay. Thank you, doctor Tomlinson.” 

Once Grace is back from her CT, she wakes up slightly dazed but overly glad to see her father. Once Harry stops fussing over her, Grace looks at Louis. “You’re wearing a suit,” she points out. 

“I am. How’re you feeling?” he asks, not looking up at her. The CT shows no signs of a stroke. “It doesn't look like she was having a stroke. CT shows nothing.” 

Harry and his mother both breathe a huge sigh of relief. Harry kisses Grace’s forehead, but Grace is still looking at Louis. “Were you on a date?” 

Louis laughs softly, glancing at Harry. “No, I wasn't. I was at my best mate’s wedding. But you take priority always, so now I’m here. Still in my tux.” 

Grace frowns. “You’re missing the wedding?” 

“It’s okay, Zayn will understand. I have to make sure that you’re okay, and I can only do that if I’m here. Even if I’m still in my tux. The good news is that you didn’t have a stroke. The bad news is that we’re not sure what could’ve caused the symptoms your nana described and the symptoms I saw when I got here. I want to do an echo now to see what your heart looks like, and we’ll check your vitals as well.” 

“I’m staying the night, then?” 

Louis nods. “Looks like it, little love. That alright with you? I can get you some pudding.” 

Grace’s persistent frown finally breaks into a grin. “Thank you, Doctor Tomlinson,” she says, very formally, making a bowing motion with her hands and her upper body. 

Louis laughs and mocks the motion. “You're very welcome, Miss Styles.”

 

He works into the early hours of the morning, trying to figure out what happened to Grace and what it will do for her transplant. It should do nothing but bump her up on the list; her condition is worsening and it is getting more and more difficult for Grace to live with the defect. The more it affects her daily life and overall health, the more reason she has for getting the transplant. 

“Have you found anything?” Harry asks softly, leaning across the nurse's station. 

Louis shrugs. “She didn't have a stroke, but blood flow was severely cut off. Echo did show a clot. If your mum waited any longer then Grace definitely would have started stroking. This gives more in favor of the transplant, though; her condition isn’t getting better even with continuous medical action.”

“I’m sorry you got pulled away from the wedding,” He looks sad when he says it, torn up. 

Louis isn't sure how to make Harry feel like it's not his fault, but dammit if he won't try. “I would’ve been called in regardless, whether I came with you or not. I’m glad you were there and got the call… it got me here faster. People here have a way of not being able to get their shit together soon enough to call me, sometimes, so I mean… it’s not your fault that we got called away.” 

“I still feel bad.” 

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t. It’s the job. And I want to make sure that Grace is okay. I’m a doctor before I’m a best man, as much as some people may hate that.” 

Harry smiles, a small and tired smile, but it’s a smile. “Are you busy? Wait, that was a dumb question.” 

“I don’t have to be. Why?” 

“I just… I have pictures from the wedding. In the rush of things I never took my camera off, so I’ve got it here. I could show them to you, if you’d like. You can get first dibs on which ones get blown up before Zayn and Liam even see them.” 

Louis grins. “I’d like that. I think you can put the memory card in this computer. I mean, I’m not tech genius but…” 

“You perform life saving operations everyday, you’re nothing short of a genius.” Harry remarks, pulling the other rolling chair in front of the computer when Louis moves out of the way. “I’m glad I got what I did before this happened, because what was coming out seemed really good.” 

“Have you looked at them yet?” Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Guess this is a special first viewing for both of us then.” 

Harry dives head first into each photo, explaining them to Louis in great detail. He talks about the Golden Hour, prime picture taking time, and how the ceremony was happening right then and it was marvelous. Louis gets lost in the way he speaks; slow and sweet and intelligent, Louis’ almost blown away by how thoughtful and smart Harry is.  _ This is going to be a problem, probably.  _

Louis is absolutely captivated by him and Harry must notice because, very suddenly, he says, “I’m boring you, aren’t I?” 

Louis is probably too quick to shake his head. “No, not at all,” he says honestly. 

“I just love taking pictures. That's why I do this, obviously. There’s something about having a whole story, a whole moment, captured like that… like this one, of you?” Harry taps the right arrow key a few times until he lands on a picture of Louis. Louis’ shocked by the quality of the picture and how  _ happy  _ he looks in it. He can remember the moment vividly, he was talking to Zayn, but Zayn isn't in the picture. No, Harry specifically focused on Louis. Harry continues, “you're so happy and smiling so big and your whole moment is captured right here.” 

“Taking pictures of me, Styles?” Louis asks lowly, feeling like he’s about to cross a line but also not caring. The reward is greater than the risk, or whatever it is they say. 

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis. They’re close. Louis doesn't really think about it anymore before leaning forward and kissing him. Harry kisses him back. The stars are aligning, Louis is at peace.  __

They break apart only a second later, something inside Louis recalling that they’re in the hospital and there’s other people around, whether he likes it or not. Harry looks shocked, mouth parted and eyes a bit wide. 

What just happened hits Louis like a truck. “ _ Fuck.”  _ he curses. “I’m so–I’m so sorry.”

“Louis.” 

“If you don’t want me to work with you and Grace anymore, I completely understand. That was so unprofessional and out of line and I…” Louis’ sentence dies in his throat when he realizes that he doesn't even know what else to say.  

" _Louis_.”  Harry says again, exasperated. “Don’t do that, okay? I don’t want you to stop working with Grace. Grace needs you.  _ I  _ need you, alright?” 

Louis takes a breath and sits back in his chair. “I’m… Uh. I don’t know,” he admits. 

Harry pulls the memory card from the computer and stands up. “I’ll let you get back to work. I need you to make my daughter healthy again, Louis. She needs a heart. I know it. She won’t be able to be strong for much longer.” 

Louis should say something to stop Harry from walking away so abruptly after such a major, boundary-crossing thing happened, but he says nothing. Harry heads back off down the hallway to his daughter’s room. It’s so quiet that Louis can hear the door click shut. 

He lets out an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair.  _ You’re such a fucking idiot.  _ Louis waits a little while before picking up his phone to check his messages. He has one from ten minutes ago, an urgent  _ CALL ME!!!  _ from Zayn. Louis obeys, dialing Zayn immediately upon reading the message. 

“How’s the kid?” Zayn’s speaking softly into the phone, seemingly not wanting to disturb someone (Liam, obviously). 

“How’s your boy?” Louis asks in reply. 

“In an alcohol-induced trance at the moment. I’m a bit out of it myself, but I wanted to check on you.” 

“You’re the one who just got married. I should be checking on you. But, since you asked…” Louis grins, trailing off. 

“There you go. Lay it on me, Tommo.” 

“I kissed the photographer from your wedding and I think I want to bang him,” Louis blurts. He needs to get it off his chest. 

Zayn is quiet for a moment, his drunk brain clearly attempting to piece together what Louis just said. Louis’ still trying to piece it together himself. “Isn’t he… the kid’s father?” 

“That’s why it’s such a big problem!” Louis just doesn’t know what to  _ do.  _ He kind of wishes the sun would swallow the earth whole. 

 

********

 

Harry rests his head in his hands and takes a deep breath. He attempts to control himself, get his heart rate in check. If he was hooked up to Grace’s heart monitor, the thing would surely be reading some not-normal numbers. Louis Tomlinson.  _ Doctor _ Louis Tomlinson, his daughter’s surgeon. This has to be unethical, Harry thinks, there’s no way this is okay. But Louis is so  _ pretty  _ and he’s a  _ surgeon,  _ he walks and talks like he has earthquakes rumbling beneath his skin and Harry is only so strong. 

“What’s wrong?” a soft voice asks very suddenly, so softly that Harry isn’t even startled by it. It’s Grace, sleepy and concerned. 

“Nothing, Gracie. You should go back to sleep. Doctor Tomlinson says you need to rest,” Harry says quickly, hoping that he’s done a decent job of covering up any sense of fret in his voice. 

Grace nods slowly. She hasn’t even opened her eyes. “I want Louis to come to my birthday. There’s not much time until my birthday.” 

“We can plan it tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry about it, G.” 

Grace doesn’t say another word, already having fallen back into sleep. Harry does the same, dozing off in the chair by the window like he always does when Grace has overnights. 

 

He wakes up again to voices in the room, talking and laughing and sounding overall genuine. Harry opens his eyes, surprised to see Doctor Tomlinson speaking to Grace. “So when I get my heart will I be allowed to play footie again?” Grace asks. 

“Within reason. We’ll get you in cardiac rehabilitation and on tons of meds and make sure that you don’t reject the heart.” 

“What happens if I start rejecting the heart?” 

“We don’t need to think about that, because it won’t happen. I assure you of that. I’m good at what I do, and I only pick good hearts. And I only have patients that are successful.” 

Grace looks over at her father finally, breaking out into a grin when she sees he’s awake. “Good morning!” she says cheerily. “Louis brought me pudding.” 

“For breakfast?” Harry questions, sitting up straighter. He feels gross after sleeping 

in the chair, always does after he sleeps at the hospital, and doesn’t really want Louis to see him like that but also doesn’t have much of a choice. “Doctor Tomlinson gave you pudding for breakfast?” 

“Ah, she had some cereal before that. I’m not some animal, Harry.” Louis grins. He looks tired, Harry thinks. Louis’ probably pulling a long shift now, ever since coming into the hospital with Harry last night. Harry doesn’t understand how surgeons do it; he photographs one wedding and immediately feels worn out. “How was your night?” 

“I hate to inform you, but your chairs are still entirely uncomfortable.” 

Louis smiles at him. “I know they are. I can hook you up with a great chiropractor if you ever see yourself needing that at one point or another.” 

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “I think I’ll be alright. You were talking about Grace’s transplant?” 

“Oh, she was just asking questions. Still no word on when it’ll happen, but Grace had questions and I had answers,” he replies simply, shrugging. “I’d like to keep you longer for observation. The episode last night was severe and we should be concerned, but we don’t need to panic.” 

“My daughter could’ve had a stroke and you expect me not to panic?” Harry asks, eyebrow pitched up in questioning. 

“Honestly? No, I didn’t expect you to stop worrying. Not sure Grace does either, but I thought I’d give it a go. Mind if I have a word with you in the hallway?” 

Harry nods, kissing Grace on the head before following Louis out of the room. “Listen–I’m sorry about what happened–”

He shakes his head, cutting Louis off mid-sentence. “I don’t want to hear it. It happened, this thing happened, just one time, and now I need you to fix my daughter. I need you to get her a heart. I need you to give her more time.” 

Louis nods curtly, clearing his throat. “Alright. I was on the phone with the transplant centre and Grace is much further up in line for a heart than she was prior to last night’s episode. There’s still no telling how much time it could take for her to actually get one. I’m doing everything I can to find some loophole, some way to get her further up on the list. Endless pouring over textbooks and online forums and whatnot.” 

“I appreciate it, Louis. I… you’re really going above and beyond, so thank you.” Harry’s truly shocked, he doesn’t know how exactly to respond. Knowing that Louis is spending time working himself on Grace’s case, on her condition, on her life. Louis is spending countless hours working for Harry – _no,_ he shakes himself abruptly, _for Grace. Only_ his patient.

“Well, I’d–I would do the same for any other patient. Grace is a really wonderful girl, Harry. You’ve done a great job with her,” Louis nods, taking a couple steps back like he’s trying to get away. 

Harry wishes he could suppress the smile that bubbles up on his face. “Thank you, Louis. She’s… my everything.” 

 

**THIRTY-THREE DAYS.**

 

Harry’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get a proper handle on things. Things on all fronts; Grace, Lauren, hospital bills, Grace’s twelfth birthday, his own ever-increasing age, and Louis Tomlinson. Especially Louis Tomlinson. Usually Harry is good at keeping things under control, he’s usually good at getting things together and making plans and getting himself and Grace everywhere they need to be. He’s good with Grace’s medications and her appointments and playdates and what she can and can’t do. 

But lately, he feels like he’s been losing control of just about everything. Grace’s health is only deteriorating; just two days ago she had an episode at when with her friends and hasn’t been back since. She also looks more and more like Lauren every time Harry looks at her, which hurts. Hospital bills are endlessly stacking up and Harry is fighting to pay them on a photographer’s salary, and Grace wants a twelfth birthday bash on top of that. He’s only getting older; nearing thirty –  _ thirty  _ years old, he almost never wants to acknowledge it. And now Doctor Louis Tomlinson is causing all sorts of problems for Harry, problems of every kind. 

He’s  _ called  _ to check on Grace in between appointments. He should be  _ calling  _ in a matter of minutes, Harry realizes, glancing quickly at the clock. He decides to go see if Grace is awake, and much to his dread, she’s not. He can’t wake her up, because she’s a young sick girl and she needs her rest. His phone starts ringing while he’s still standing in Grace’s doorway, causing Harry to move away quickly. 

He watches the phone ring in his hand,  _ Doctor Tomlinson  _ flashing bright on the screen, and he debates not answering it. Grace is asleep, that’s the only reason why Louis is calling. He doesn’t want to talk to Harry, he wants to talk to Grace. 

So, Harry isn’t sure why he answers the phone. “Hello, doctor Tomlinson,” Harry says, plopping down on the couch in the way his mother still always yells at him for. He’s a grown man, he can sit however he damn well pleases. 

“I’m calling to speak with a certain Grace Styles?” Louis sounds relaxed over the phone. 

“Ah, I figured. Unfortunately she is unavailable, she’s getting some much needed rest at the moment and can’t make your call,” Harry bounces back, unable to keep a smile off his face. “I’m the only one you’ll be talking to tonight, sorry about that.” 

“Shit, really? You shouldn’t have even bothered answering the call!” 

“Oh, I’ll just hang up now then,” Harry jokes, pulling the phone further away from his ear. 

He can hear Louis’ shouted protest and brings it back to hear whatever it is he has to say. “I’d still love to talk about Grace, if you don’t mind. I also have to ask you a question about… something.” 

Harry’s stomach flips. “Alright, we can do both of those things. Grace has been doing well, I guess. Given the circumstances, you know… how this is.” 

“Any blue spells?” 

“Not since she was at the playground a few days ago. She hasn’t gone to anywhere since then, though, gaining up her strength again.” Harry says. “I’ve been making sure that she eats and drinks properly, and I’ve been making sure that she takes it easy.” 

“Good, that all sounds good. Careful you don’t… suffocate her.” 

Harry scoffs. “Suffocate her? No offence, Doctor Tomlinson, but you’re not a father. It’s nearly impossible to stop from suffocating her. I’ve told you, she’s my everything.” 

“I believe you.” Louis says softly. Everything seems softer about him now. Harry can picture him, in sweatpants with soft hair and finally relaxing after a long day at the hospital. Maybe drinking a beer, maybe just a cup of tea or something, sitting on his couch, or maybe even his bed, talking to Grace – in this case Harry – on the phone. 

“Can I ask you my question now?” Louis asks, snapping Harry back to reality. 

“Go ahead and shoot, I suppose.” 

“When I talked to Grace the other day she mentioned something about a birthday party this weekend? I was given an invite and even a plus one, but I wanted to run that by you first? I wasn’t sure if she’d spoken with you about it and I just… I want to make it a habit  _ not  _ to overstep.” Louis’ rambling, helplessly, but Harry lets him go. 

“Oh. She, like, kind of mentioned that to me but I’d love it if you came. And the plus one. Grace is the birthday girl, so she gets whatever she so desires,” Harry smiles, endlessly grateful that Louis can’t see him. 

“Okay, good. I’ll make sure to take the day off, or at least stay on call. And there won’t be a plus one, by the way.”

Harry debates what to say, but settles on a simple  _ oh.  _ “Thank you for calling, Doctor Tomlinson. It means a lot to Grace. And to me. Thank you.” 

“Harry, I can’t keep having you call me Doctor Tomlinson. It’s Louis. I’m coming to your daughter’s birthday party, you can call me by my first name.” Louis says. 

“Thank you for calling,  _ Louis _ . I really do appreciate it.” 

“Do you think you could text me the information about Grace’s party? I should be able to stop by, I have a surgery early Saturday morning but that won’t take all day.” 

_ Text _ Louis. Harry shakes himself. “Yes, I can do that. This… this is your cell?” 

Louis hums. “You are correct about that. I’ll let you go, the fathers of sick girls need their rest as well.”

“Thanks again, Louis,” Harry says softly. 

After they hang up, he quickly sends Louis the information about Grace’s Twelfth Birthday Bash and eyes Louis’ contact name; still Doctor Tomlinson. After a moment he changes it to simply Louis, then sets out for bed. 

 

********

 

“Dad!” Grace yells over the music. “I just saw Louis, Louis is here! Stop taking pictures and go  _ talk  _ to him please!” 

“Lovebug, would you go have a good time at your birthday party, please?” Harry begs, ushering Grace in the direction of the bouncy castle or the food table or both. He also turns to find Louis somewhere in the bustle of kids and parents. 

He finally spots him, talking to a young mother and cooing over the little baby in her arms. Harry may or may not beeline for him. “A little birdy told me you’d arrived,” he says casually, but can’t stop fucking smiling. 

Louis has a present, Harry realizes. “Of course I’m here. I have a present, but Grace was too excited to take it from me after she told me about the bouncy castle.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you. And yeah, she's very excited about that castle. And that I’m letting her go in it,” Harry should follow Louis’ gaze, where he’s looking for Grace among her friends, but Harry takes the brief opportunity where Louis’ not looking at him to survey  _ Louis _ ; wearing black jeans and a nice shirt that’s a step up from his usual scrubs. 

 

Harry finds himself gravitating towards Louis for the duration of his daughter’s party. Grace proves independent; she only comes to Harry when she needs something from him that she can’t do herself (see: balloon animals, cake cutting, and drink refilling). But other than that, Harry has free reign of himself and with that, he chooses to talk to Louis. Louis chooses to speak to a lot of young children, siblings of Grace’s friends, and Harry’s heart is absolutely melting. 

“It’s nice to see that Grace has still made and kept a lot of friends,” Louis notes, sitting back in his lawn chair. 

“Do you see sick kids that get ditched a lot?” 

Louis shrugs. “Kids can be mean. Sometimes they don’t like kids that are different, or the runt. Not that Grace is the runt–”

He quickly tries to fix what he said, but Harry decides to spare him. “No, I get what you mean. I don’t think you think Grace is the runt or whatever.” 

Louis just nods, seeming lost in his thoughts. Harry leaves him be there, he also doesn’t want to overstep. They should make it a habit not to overstep with each other, especially after they kissed at the hospital. It’s not that Harry didn’t want to kiss Louis (of course he wanted to kiss Louis), it’s not that Harry doesn’t want to kiss Louis  _ again,  _ it’s just that they can’t kiss. Or shouldn’t. Can’t. It’s killing Harry, quite honestly. Especially as the party wears on and Louis drifts away, talking to different parents and paying special attention to any little kids. 

God, the  _ babies.  _ Louis Tomlinson and the babies are going to make Harry cry. He almost over-poured his punch while watching Louis make a baby laugh, which only made Louis laugh, which lead to the punch being almost-spilled. Louis creates a chain reaction for Harry, and he only wishes he could say he cared. 

“Louis!” Grace calls. “I want you to be on my Kan Jam team!” 

“Duty calls,” Louis says, finally breaking away from Harry. Harry feels a bit pathetically lost the second Louis walks away. It’s incredibly pathetic, incredibly stupid and probably all in his head. 

Harry watches him play, going right along with Grace and her friends like he was meant to be there. 

“You’ve got a terrible problem with staring, you know?” someone says suddenly. Harry rolls his eyes when he sees his mother standing beside him. “Who is he?” 

“Grace’s surgeon…” Harry mumbles, not really wanting to admit that to her and be condemned for it. 

“Grace’s what now?”

“The miracle doctor who’s going to get her a new heart. Grace is in love with him, and she invited him. He’s great, obviously,” Harry gestures to the Kan Jam game. 

“Why’re you looking at him like he’s the only person here?” 

_ That’s dramatic.  _ Harry shrugs. “I dunno. Do you think it’s noticeable?” 

“Awfully so, darling. But fortunately I’ve seen him looking at you the same way, so you’re in a bit of luck.” 

  
  


Louis Tomlinson, as luck would have it, is the very last person to leave. Grace is asleep on the couch, fell asleep the second her Nana left. That leaves Harry to his own devices when it comes to Louis. 

“Thank you again for having me. I’ll have to talk to Grace the next time I see her, I suppose,” Louis says, lingering in the foyer like he’s waiting for something. 

“Of course. Thank you for coming, I know you had to take off and everything and that can only be a hassle, so thank  _ you _ especially.” 

Louis smiles, so wide he gets crinkles by his eyes, and Harry nearly melts. “It was no big deal. Happy to do it, especially for Grace.” 

Harry nods. They stare at each other for a moment, standing oddly close together in front of the door, then Louis leans forward. And kisses Harry. Louis’ lips are soft and he’s confident in his kiss and Harry kisses him back, of course. Then he abruptly breaks apart and opens the door. 

“We can’t keep doing this. Stop just… kissing me,” Harry instructs, doing anything to keep from looking into Louis’ pretty blue eyes. 

He shuts the door in Louis’ face. Back pressed against the door, he takes a few deep breaths and tries (and fails) to stop thinking about Louis. Louis is gorgeous, and he’s funny and caring and kind and he  _ loves  _ little kids. Harry swings the door open again. 

“Louis.” he says, praying this is okay. Louis hadn’t gone far, he comes back up the stairs to stand before Harry expectantly. Harry grabs him by the collar of his fitted dress shirt and pulls him through the doorway, kissing him like it's all he knows how to do. 

Louis’ hands fly to Harry’s hips, holding him still and keeping them in the hallway. It feels right, but it feels wrong, but Harry can feel Louis’ body pressed against him and it feels perfect. Louis slips a hand through the buttons of Harry’s shirt, which causes Harry to grab said hand and move it away. 

“We’re not getting off in my foyer while my daughter sleeps on the couch,” Harry says breathlessly, talking into Louis’ mouth but not caring too much. 

“Where can we go then?” Louis asks in reply, pitching Harry’s shirt further up his back like he’s pushing the boundary. 

“Nowhere.” 

“Why not?” 

“We’re not sleeping together.” Louis frowns, drawing back. “Not now, not yet. I barely know you. You haven't even taken me out to dinner yet.” 

Louis laughs, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and walking toward the door. “Harry Styles, will you go out to dinner with me?” 

“I want a four star restaurant.” 

“I can give you four and a half,” Louis grins. 

Harry feels himself blush for some dumb fucking reason. Doctor Louis Tomlinson is standing in his doorway in the moonlight with bright blue eyes and a sly smile on his face because he finally got what he wanted. Harry doesn’t want to let him leave. “You should probably go now,” he says, despite what he’s really feeling. 

Louis nods, though, understandingly. “Dinner. Friday night. I’m on call that night, but we’ll make do.” 

Harry agrees blindly, not bothering to check his meticulously organized planner. “Friday night. I eagerly await it.” 

He watches Louis’ car drive away, imagines being in the passenger seat of that very car in less than a week. After Louis is long gone, Harry carries Grace to her bed and tucks her in. He takes a long shower where he really tries to stop thinking about Louis, but has no luck. He doesn’t even think about Louis in an inappropriate way, he thinks about Louis in every other way; his laugh and his smile and his job and how he talks to kids and how he kisses and how he’s smart and how he knows exactly what to say. 

He has a dream about Louis, he’s not sure what happens in it, but Louis is definitely there. (Harry can tell because he feels like he’s got the sun in his chest and the dream is completely black and white before becoming awash with color the second someone in it laughs). 

 

********

 

**TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS.**

 

“Mum? I have a favor to ask of you. I know it’s super last minute but would you be able to take Grace tonight? I meant to call you sooner but—”  

Anne cuts Harry off abruptly. “Of course! But is everything alright? What came up, baby? A job?” 

“No, not exactly…” Harry’s mumbling a bit, he knows, because he always mumbles when he admits stuff to his mother. “Grace, are you ready to go? Nana okayed your sleepover tonight!” 

“Almost, dad! I’m coming now.” 

“Meet me in the car, love, close the front door behind you!” he shouts, grabbing the keys and redirecting his attention back to his mother on the phone. “I have to, uh, meet someone tonight.” 

Anne hums, amused. “Meet someone, huh? About what?” 

“A personal thing, okay? Can you not put me on trial over it, mum? Thank you for taking Grace tonight–”

“Tell me what you’re doing or I won’t watch her,” Anne sings. 

Harry knows she’s just fucking with him. He checks the rearview mirror to make sure Grace isn’t coming before sighing heavily and admitting to his mother. “I’m going on a date. With Grace’s surgeon.”

“I figured that’s what it was. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes, lovely.” 

Anne hangs up without giving Harry a chance to say a word. He drops his phone in the cupholder and taps the horn, hoping Grace picks it up a little. Once she gets in the passenger seat, she notes that Harry’s always telling her to take it easy, but rushes her out of the house whenever they go anywhere. She talks the entire car ride about literally everything; her heart, her grandmother, her birthday bash _days_ ago, her upcoming meeting with Doctor Tomlinson, everything. 

Harry doesn’t plan on telling Grace quite yet that he’s going out to dinner with her beloved doctor. Harry’s still trying to convince himself that this is nothing but a business meeting. A strategizing get together where they’ll talk about Grace and surgeries and medication. That’s what he’s telling himself to feel a bit better about going on a date with his daughter’s surgeon. 

At his mother’s house, Grace gives him a quick kiss goodbye and Anne gives him a knowing look. Harry leaves rather quickly to avoid any further scrutiny from his mum. She has an awful lot of that, especially when it comes to Harry's dating life. She's very protective of him ever since the whole Lauren situation, and she's just as protective over Grace. That's unsurprising, seeing as Grace is her granddaughter and grandmothers would do anything for their grandchildren. But Anne watches closely over Harry’s dating life because she want to make sure her son is bringing home people that are good enough for him and his daughter. That's a very easy test to pass; you just have to be better than Lauren was. 

Louis insisted on picking Harry up to go out to dinner, so he drives back home and sits and waits. It feels like he’s waiting for his first date in high school or something, he doesn't feel like an almost thirty-year-old father going out to dinner, which is a completely normal thing to do. It’s just dinner. 

The doorbell rings. Harry’s stomach drops. He grabs his phone and his coat and looks at himself in the mirror in the hallway before swinging the door open. Louis is standing there, wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a nice button up top with a suit jacket. Harry almost screams. 

“Sorry I’m kind of late, getting out of the hospital is always a nightmare.” Louis apologizes first and foremost. Harry picks up his phone and look at the time. It’s five after eight. 

“You’re not late. The reservation isn’t for another twenty five minutes.” Harry points out, shoving his phone back in his pocket. 

“Thank you, father time,” Louis says sarcastically, rolling his eyes just the slightest bit. He’s still got a massive grin on his face. “Shall we go?” 

“I think we shall,” Harry replies, locking the door from the inside before pulling it shut behind him. 

Louis opens the car door for Harry, the gentleman that he is. Louis’ car is really fucking nice, Harry takes a moment to admire the car before Louis gets in and starts it up. “This is…” 

“A nice ass car?” Louis fills in, sounding joking and cocky. “I’m kidding. A little bit.” 

“No, it totally is.” Harry says. “It’s a nice ass car. It looked nice from the outside, but inside… It’s so much nicer on the inside. You really are a doctor, aren’t you?” 

“Surgeon, but, yeah, I really am. Explains why I’ve been treating your daughter for this much time,” Louis laughs, resting his elbow on the car door. It’s such a simple gesture, he’s only moving his arm and leaning against the door while he drives; but now he’s driving one handed and it’s so effortlessly… hot. 

Harry’s so, so gone. He doesn’t even know what to say back to Louis, so he only laughs and hopes Louis fills the gap. Louis does, and he fills that gap gloriously well. It’s effortless for him, like so many other things appear to be for Doctor Louis Tomlinson. He talks and makes Harry laugh and makes himself laugh, all completely effortless. He parallel parks effortlessly, he gets the waiter to give them a better table on the balcony outside effortlessly. 

It’s nice outside, the sun setting and a cool breeze settling over. It feels like June, and it’s wonderful. Louis makes Harry order a cocktail, even though he himself only gets an iced tea. He jokes about one of them needing to be sober enough to drive home. 

“I know how to hold myself together,” Harry says, smiling in thanks at the waiter who sets down his drink. “But I think  _ you’re  _ gonna have to be the one keeping up with  _ me.”  _

Louis arches his eyebrows. “Is that a promise?” 

Harry hums, shrugging. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” 

Yeah, he’s definitely back on his game now. Harry’s game is rather weak and spotting to begin with – a side effect of tending to be perpetually single for the last ten years – but he thinks he can hold his own rather well when need be. Right now, he can flirt back with Louis. He can give as good as he’s getting, hopefully. Harry keeps Louis laughing this time, it’s nothing like the car ride over. 

“Where’d you dump Grace for the night?” Louis asks finally, after their entrees have been cleared and they’re waiting for their dessert to come out (Harry wouldn’t leave without ordering a chocolate mousse cake). 

“Oh, I called my mum up. But she wouldn’t take Grace unless I told her where I was going.” 

“Did you tell Grace?” 

Harry shakes his head, sucking on the red straw in his drink. “No, no. I don’t need her, like, I don’t know. I just feel like it might make her feel weird, or something. So I told her I had a gig and that she’d spend the night at her Nana’s and that was it.” 

“The kids know this kind of shit, you know?” Louis says. His eyes are focused on Harry’s lips around his straw, not on Harry’s eyes. Harry doesn’t mind. “Like, a lot of the sick kids are a lot closer with their parents than… regular kids. I know you and Grace are. So, like, she probably figured this is where you were going. On a date.” 

“She doesn’t know you were the one I was on a date with, though.” 

“She might. I think she’s very observant and I think it’ll get her far. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had her own suspicions and theories about where you were actually headed and with who,” Louis shrugs. 

The waiter sets their dessert on the table between them, but Louis pushes it closer to Harry. He says he doesn’t want any, and so Harry eats almost all of it while Louis keeps him talking and keeps him laughing. He’s so fucking content with the way this dinner turned out. They talk about themselves the whole time, not about politics or  _ Grace.  _ That’s what Harry dreaded the most, was Grace being brought up into the conversation and it ruining the entire night. But her sickness didn’t come up, everything was preserved and Doctor Louis Tomlinson has most definitely swept Harry off his feet. 

Louis opens the car door for Harry again, and shuts it behind him, and lets Harry pick the radio station that they have playing in the background while they drive and chat on the way home. The second Louis pulls into Harry’s driveway, Harry realizes that he doesn’t want this night to  _ end,  _ not ever. 

“D’you wanna come in? Have a drink, maybe? A cuppa? I’ve got wine, that happens to be my drink of choice. We can sit on the couch and drink and talk and… yeah.” Harry cuts himself off. He can feel the few cocktails getting to him, but they make him more confident, so he hopes Louis doesn’t really mind. 

Louis laughs at him, nodding. “Sure, Styles. We can go inside and have a drink.” 

Harry leads Louis into his  _ house.  _ And it’s not like Louis hasn’t been here before, it’s just with a different… mood than before. Last time Louis was inside was for Grace’s birthday bash, and that ended on a high note. Now he’s in here because Harry invited him in and nobody else is home and he just. Harry might implode. 

He manages to get them two glasses of wine and bring the bottle in to where Louis’ sitting on the couch. “This is my drink of choice,” Harry tells him as he sits down. 

“I know, you mentioned. It’s a good drink, I suppose. Gets you drunk, yeah?” 

Harry nods. “Mhm. It definitely does that.” 

They’re rather quiet, but Harry’s own head is  _ loud  _ with impulsive thoughts and regrets and admiration for Louis. He cracks finally, when Louis sarcastically makes a kissy face at him after making a snarky comment and his lips just look so… kissable. 

Harry’s on him in an instant, tabling his wine glass and crowding into Louis. That split second, when you’re waiting for the boom of thunder after the strike of lightning, that is the moment Harry feels he’s suspended in while he waits for Louis to kiss him back. For a moment he thinks it won’t come, that Louis will push him away and they’ll have to go back to normal.

But then Louis melts into it completely, sinking into the back of the couch and pulling Harry more firmly into his lap. He feels Louis’  _ cock  _ through his jeans and the realization that there’s a maximum of four thin layers of clothing between them hits Harry hard, so hard that he even lets out a little moan. 

Louis laughs softly, his left hand coming up to cup Harry’s jaw and hold him there so Harry can’t move away. “What’re you laughing at?” Harry asks, breaking away as far as Louis will allow. 

“You’re insatiable,” Louis murmurs, his hand leaving Harry’s face and travelling towards the buttons of his dress shirt. “Okay if I take this off?” 

Harry nods, maybe too eagerly, and attaches his lips to the hinge of Louis’ jaw. Louis laughs again, unbuttoning Harry’s shirt one handed. Effortlessly. They speak with their bodies, as corny as that sounds to Harry. It’s true; Louis seems to be attuned to Harry’s every movement and every fucking  _ thought  _ and it’s making Harry go a bit insane for it. 

“You’re so fucking special, Harry,” Louis whispers, his fingers dancing through Harry’s hair. 

Harry feels that, he feels it in his head and his heart and his fingertips and his fucking  _ cock  _ and he never wants to leave this position, not ever. 

 

********

 

**TWENTY-SIX DAYS.**

 

Louis shows up late to work the day after his date with Harry. Zayn, who’s finally back after his extremely long honeymoon, arches his eyebrows from behind the nurse’s station. “I did your rounds for you. The sky isn’t falling anywhere, so don’t worry,” he says, handing Louis a tablet. “You alright?” 

Louis nods, signing in. “How was the honeymoon?” 

“It was great, I’ll tell you all about it when we have a lads night the next time we have off. What’s got you late this morning?” 

Louis waves his hand vaguely, leaning against the desk as he reads over a patient’s chart. “You know. Just… life.” 

Zayn laughs out loud, shaking his head. “What’s this, then?” he leans forward suddenly, pressing his finger to the hinge of Louis’ jaw, which hurts a little bit. 

Louis swats his hand away. “Oh, my god. We’re in our professional work environment and you’re acting like a child.” 

“You’re a thirty-one year old prodigy doctor and you’re acting like a teenager. Who gave you that?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Louis affirms, turning his back on Zayn. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my age, thank you very much. My Peter Pan Syndrome gets the best of me and you know that.” 

Louis leaves Zayn behind to go check on Connor, because he feels like it’s been awhile since he’s paid the kid a personal visit. Connor, upon seeing Louis come through his hospital door, has a very displeased look on his face. “You sent Zayn to do your rounds this morning. That’s never a good sign.” 

“I think it’d be the opposite, actually,” Louis says thoughtfully, checking the IV line in Connor’s arm, “if  _ I  _ came on the rounds I feel like that’s more of a bad sign.” 

“In what way? Maybe you’re just scapegoating Zayn and sending him around to all the sick kids with bad news instead of doing it yourself.” Connor challenges. 

“That’s a very big word, Mister Anderson. And, I’m not scapegoating Zayn because that’s not the kind of doctor I am, kid.” 

“That’s what my mum says about you.” Connor says, serious now. “Why’d you send Zayn?” 

“Because I was… running late,” Louis replies, flashing the kid a smile. Connor feels a bit like the younger brother Louis never really had, even though he’s a patient and Louis’ a doctor who literally has Connor’s  _ life  _ in his hands. That thought gets to Louis sometimes, but it doesn’t stop him from doing his best to treat Connor and make him better. 

“How’s that new sick girl you’ve been telling me about? Grace? And her dad?” 

“Oh. Grace is still waiting for a transplant, but she’s doing as well as she can, given the circumstances.” Louis replies. Connor arches his eyebrows, waiting for Louis to answer the second half of his question, to which Louis rolls his own eyes. “Her dad’s doing the best he can, given the circumstances. Connor Anderson that is all I can tell you. Until you yourself become a nurse here at this hospital, sound good?” 

“You, a doctor, have to make me better first.” 

“I’m working on that, kiddo. Promise. Get some rest now, alright?” 

Connor nods. “You should make a move, Doctor Tomlinson. On that girl’s father. I know I’m in no place to make romantic moves or give you advice, but I think you should.” 

Louis rolls his eyes at Connor one final time before leaving the room. Louis floats through the day, every so often checking to see if Harry’s texted him (he hasn’t) but it doesn’t put any sort of damper on Louis’ mood. He flies through his appendicitis surgery and his rounds at the end of his twelve hour shift. Louis feels no strain of the twelve hours on him and Zayn really makes fun of him for it. 

Louis gets home just after nine, taking a quick shower before checking his emails and his texts and finding nothing from Harry Styles. 

He texts Niall, thanking him for checking in on the house and giving him a general recap of the day. His phone rings, Zayn’s name coming up on the caller ID. “You alone?” Zayn asks. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Kind of always am, aren’t I?”  

Zayn laughs, then whispers  _ Louis  _ to someone in the room with him (probably Liam, Louis’ concern isn’t raised). “How was the rest of your shift today?” 

“It was just a shift. Flew through an appendectomy. Boring surgery.”

Zayn doesn’t answer for a moment. Louis thinks maybe he won’t, but then he takes a deep breath. “He hasn’t called you yet, has he?”

Louis feels himself blush and he’s so fucking glad Zayn isn't here to see his reaction. “What makes you say that?” 

“You love appendectomies. They’re easy and, honestly, I think you have fun doing them. You’d never call them boring. You’ve been weird all day. You’ve been overly happy. And you haven’t mentioned Harry yet, and you called one of your favorite easy surgeries  _ boring _ . I might be jumping a bit, but I think it’s calculated.” 

“No, Harry hasn’t called. Or texted. But he  _ does  _ have a daughter who happens to have a congenital heart defect that threatens her life at every waking moment, so. I’m sure he’s just… busy.” 

“That’s what you’re hoping for, right?” Zayn asks. “What happened last night, anyway?” 

“Sex happened, Zayn. Well, blowjobs. Or, handjobs, if you want to get that specific about it. And I’m  _ allowed  _ to get specific about it because you  _ asked _ .” Louis warns, and Zayn laughs. “Probably the best of my whole life and I didn’t even fuck him. And now he hasn’t called or texted but he has Grace.” 

“You could just text him, Lou.” Zayn says softly. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“No.” Louis says firmly. “I don’t want to reach out first. I’m his daughter’s doctor and there was a line in the sand that we stepped so far over I don’t think I can find it again – I don’t  _ want  _ to find it again. But he should reach out to me because I’m the doctor and if anyone initiated the step, it was me. I want him…” 

“Comfortable. But you  _ want  _ him.” 

“Not to be dramatic or anything, but I’m thirty-one years old and I think I might be in love with him.” 

“You’re just realizing this now?” Zayn probably has a nasty smirk on his face that Louis would probably want to smack off if they were in the same room. “Li and I had our suspicions after seeing you guys together at the wedding. I’m surprised it took you this long to realize.” 

Louis’ phone vibrates against his ear suddenly. He whips it down into eyesight in time to see Harry’s name flash on the screen in a text message. “He texted, wait.” Louis relays, putting Zayn on speaker and pulling up his messages. 

_ You’re incredible. But we probably shouldn’t do that again.  _

Louis feels his body turn to stone. He feels the exact moment that his body goes from warm blood to stone cold cement. He feels the  _ second  _ his heart stop beating to the rhythm of Harry’s and grows more erratic, like the faster it beats the easier it’ll be able to keep itself from being broken. 

“It’s not good, is it?” Zayn asks softly. Louis can hear the jingle of what sounds like car keys on the other end of the line and goes to protest, but Zayn cuts him off. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, Lou. I’ve gotta tell you about my honeymoon, anyway. And you’re really racking up my phone bill.” 

Louis laughs, but it’s weak and forced and he does not like the way this feels. He feels small, he feels weak, he feels like his lungs are suddenly incapable of holding air. He feels like he took his helmet off in space and is suffocating. With fingers that might be turning blue, he calls his messages up again and allows himself to answer Harry. A simple  _ why not? _ that seems to take the courage right from Louis’ heart immediately after he sends it. 

The message marks as read immediately after Louis sends it. Harry starts typing. Then he stops. Then he starts again. A minute later, a rather lengthy paragraph comes in.  _ You’re Grace’s doctor, and that makes you my doctor. You’re the one thing standing between my daughter and death’s door and we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t see each other like that. You’re an amazing person, an amazing doctor, but we can’t do this again.  _

Louis doesn’t feel like he’s a thirty-one year old, rather talented and successful surgeon. He doesn’t feel like he’s the man who’s capable of performing three surgeries on three tiny humans in the same day and have all of them go off without a hitch. He feels like if he were to stand up right now, his own legs wouldn’t be able to hold him up. If he were to go use a knife to cut a sandwich, something he can do with his eyes shut at this point after years of practice with a scalpel and human bodies, his hands would betray him. The same way his heart and his brain and his fucking  _ dick  _ betrayed him. 

Louis locks his phone off and tosses it onto the coffee table with no regard for the potential of breaking the glass table or the phone (and, that’s a bit of a metaphor, or something; he’s the table and Harry’s the phone). A few minutes later, a few agonizing minutes of Louis feeling like he’s drowning in the silence later, Zayn lets himself into the flat with the key Louis gave him not long after they met.

“You’re not used to this one, are you, mate?” Zayn sets a bottle of vodka on the coffee table right next to Louis’ hopefully-broken phone. If it’s broken then he has a reason to not look at it. 

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, reaching for the bottle and cracking the seal. He looks to Zayn, who’s dressed in Adidas joggers and a sweatshirt that looks a lot like one of Liam’s. He was clearly ready for bed, not to come nurse Louis. Louis takes a swig from the bottle, wincing as it goes down. 

“Oh, you’re going right from the bottle.” Zayn frowns, sitting cross legged on the other end of the couch. “I  _ mean  _ you’re not used to being the one having your heart broken. You’re used to being the heartbreaker.” 

“He didn’t  _ break my heart,  _ Zayn. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just… I thought we’d at least date, a little bit. Even if we ended up splitting up.” 

“Fifteen minutes ago you told me you thought you were in love with him. What makes you think that, Lou?” 

“I think… I think I knew the second I saw him and his daughter in the exam room that day. He was so charming, and I don’t even think he realized that he was doing it. And Grace was just so… mature and put together. Her mum isn’t in the picture, like at all, Grace said she doesn’t know where she is, and Harry raised her all on his own and it’s just… admirable. He’s so nice and it took him forever to start calling me  _ Louis  _ instead of Doctor Tomlinson and I think I knew, Z, the second I walked into that room and saw him there that I  _ wanted  _ him,” Louis rambles, like the words can’t get out of his throat fast enough. 

Zayn stares at him, awed. Louis rolls his eyes simply at the look on Zayn’s face. “It makes sense, though. Why we shouldn’t be together. I  _ am _ treating his daughter. I’m going to find her a heart and I’m going to operate on her and her life will quite literally be in my hands on my operating table under my scalpel.”

The more he works it out, the less it starts to hurt, just becomes a dull weight that he now has to carry. Something that he needs to come to terms with; he cannot love Harry because it is unethical, because it is impractical, because it is unrequited. 

“You shouldn’t have come all the way here. You should be home, with Liam. We have to work tomorrow, and you’ve got the earlier shift. I’m thirty-one years old. I’m a professional. I’m a grown-ass man, Zayn.” Louis says sternly. “Just because I feel like my lungs are caving in and that I can’t possibly go see Harry and Grace at their appointment on Tuesday to check the condition of her heart doesn’t mean that you have to baby me.” 

“Your lungs are caving in, huh?” Zayn says amusedly. “You gonna get drunk?” 

Louis shakes his head, looking at the bottle in his hand. He doesn’t feel much like eating or drinking or doing much of anything at this point. “Did you text him back?” Zayn asks, eyes going from Louis to his cellphone on the table. 

“I just asked why. He sent some lengthy explanation and I didn’t answer. I see them on Tuesday. They have appointments on Tuesdays because Harry’s paranoid and because it’s the day that works best in their schedule.” 

“You’re really gonna be able to get her a heart?” 

“Yeah, I am. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but I’m going to get the kid a heart,” Louis replies. “You really don’t have to stay, Z. I’m capable of handling myself.” 

“I came all the way here, I’m at least talking your ear off about my honeymoon, mate.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, taking another sip from the vodka. “Spare me the gory details, mate, I don’t wanna know them.” 

Zayn laughs and says, “the first thing we did when we got there was fuck.” To which Louis groans and covers his ears, and that’s how the rest of his night goes. 

 

********

 

**TWENTY-FOUR DAYS**

 

The one time Harry’s actually willing to wait outside the room while Grace is talking to Doctor Tomlinson is the one time Grace actually  _ wants  _ him in there. “Why’re you being weird about it, dad? Just sit there and listen to whatever he says,” she says, giving him a funny look. “You’re always dying to be in here with me and now I want you to be and you don’t want to be?” 

“I’m not being weird about it, Grace. I’m just—” Harry cuts himself off the second the door opens and Doctor Tomlinson walks in, a smile on his face. 

“You’re passing all of these exams with flying colors, Miss Styles.” he says, sounding proud. He addresses Harry with a simple, “Hi, Harry,” which Harry acknowledges with a nod and a small smile. 

“When am I going to be able to get a heart?” Grace asks, looking at Louis expectantly. 

Louis hums, considering for a second. “Ideally, soon. I’m trying my hardest, little love.” 

Grace gives him a critical look. “I want one. How can I get higher up on the list?” 

“Grace.” Harry warns. “The heart that you get is one that you take from somebody else.” 

“I know, dad. That’s absolutely mad to think about. But I still want a heart, I want to be okay again.” Grace says, sounding more confident than Harry’s ever heard her before. “The next time I go in for a surgery I want it to be for a new heart.” 

“So, the specific heart defect that you have is called hypoplastic left heart syndrome. Judging by your tests, your heart is still having a very tough time pumping blood and oxygen through your body. It’s still beating, doing its job, it’s just struggling a bit more than I would like to see. That does boost you up on the transplant list, but not by much. There’s still hundreds – if not thousands – of people on the list before and after you, all of whom could drop in condition at any moment.” 

“So we’re just playing a waiting game, then?” Harry asks. 

“Exactly. Unfortunately, that’s all we’ll be doing for a long time. Still no sports, still no heavy physical activity. Breathing will be tough, but if I’m not mistaken you do have a ventilator in case it gets too difficult?” Louis quirks an eyebrow, and Harry nods. “Great. I’m trying my absolute best to get her bumped up on that list, Mr. Styles, and I’ll let you know the second I hear anything.” 

Grace sighs heavily, looking at Louis carefully. “It’s a bit stressful, isn’t it?” 

“It’s a whole lot stressful, G. I’ll let you get changed now, if Doctor Tomlinson’s 

finished?”  

Louis nods. “We’re done here for today. I’ll see you next Tuesday, Miss Styles.” 

Harry follows Louis out of the room, nearly walking right into him when Louis stops short and turns around. “She’s a really intelligent girl, you know,” Louis says thoughtfully. Harry can tell that he means it, and that  _ hurts  _ Harry more than it should. 

“Thank you,” he says aloud, despite his heart screaming  _ I’m sorry _ to the beat of its own drum. 

“I’m going to find her a heart and that transplant is going to be successful. We just need time, Mr. Styles.” Louis rarely referred to Harry as  _ Mr. Styles  _ and Harry can’t say he likes it now. “Have a nice week, I’ll see you next Tuesday.” 

With that, Louis fades into the hospital, all white walls and loud beeping. Grace opens her door a moment later, finding her father still standing in the place Louis left him. She grabs Harry’s hand, squeezing gently, and Harry thinks for a moment that she  _ knows _ . Neither of them say anything about it, though, just leads her off to the car. 

 

That night, Harry’s mother calls him in a tizzy over his date with the dashing doctor. Harry knows that’s what she wants the second he hears his phone start ringing, but he answers anyway. 

“Hi, mum,” he says, doing his best to sound cheery even though he’s feeling none of it. 

“Hi, H. You sound awfully delightful this evening. Up for a chat with your mum?” 

“I don’t have much of a choice, but I don’t really mind.” 

“So, how’s Doctor Tomlinson?” Anne wastes no time getting to what Harry knew she wanted to get to. 

He rolls his eyes, and is glad that she can’t see him do so. “He’s a doctor. A surgeon. He’s confident that Grace is going to be able to have a successful transplant in the near future. He was concerned today about her heart’s ability to deliver blood and oxygen, but nothing’s too bad just yet.” 

“I meant your date on Friday and you know that’s what I meant. You’ve been avoiding talking about it, Harry, and I won’t have it any longer,” Anne says firmly. It has been a while, and Harry hates not talking to his mum about things. But he’s kind of hoping if he avoids Louis, everything that comes with him will just fade into the background. 

“It went well. But we can’t see each other again.” 

“Ah. Is that his doing or your doing?” 

Harry wishes it was Louis’ doing, it would give him and his mum both a reason to get off this fucking ride. “No, it was my doing. It’s just… he’s Grace’s doctor, her goddamn  _ surgeon _ , and I need him to save her life. It crosses so many lines and I just… can’t let it happen, not if it jeopardizes Grace and her health and her surgery.” 

Anne is quiet for a second. She takes a deep breath, one that almost makes Harry flinch in anticipation of what she’s going to say. “It’s your doing, hm? Alright, H. Sounds like you know what you’re doing. Anything else you have to share with your old mum? How’s my granddaughter’s health?” 

Harry continues chatting with his mum, conversation about Louis forced back into the dark depths of the phone call as Grace overpowers it. Grace overpowers the conversation most of the time, no matter who Harry’s speaking to. He hates it, he hates talking about her sickness, he hates asking hypothetical questions and  _ what if’ _ s. 

But he entertains his mother, because she’s concerned about him and about Grace. He entertains his mother because eventually the conversation veers off to be about school next year and dance and how Grace is doing there, and that’s nowhere near as bad as talking about Grace being sick. 

 

********

 

**FIFTEEN DAYS**

 

Louis runs into Harry and Grace Styles when leaving the hospital after a twelve-hour night shift. They were in for an outpatient check-up, one that didn’t require seeing their surgeon, Louis knows this because he was bored in the middle of the night and he checked Grace’s chart and saw that their regular doctor was scheduled in outpatient. 

“Shouldn’t you just be getting to work? Not  _ leaving?” _ Grace asks, looking up at Louis with wide eyes. 

He doesn’t have the energy in him to bounce back and forth with Grace, but he musters up as much as he can and tries not to look at Harry. “I worked the night shift, love. From last night to nine this morning.” 

“Sounds tiring.” Grace remarks. “I wouldn’t enjoy that very much.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he lies. Grace gives him a wary look, like she doesn’t believe his lie, but she lets it slide. 

“C’mon, Grace. We should get in there.” Harry says finally, putting a hand on Grace’s shoulder and nudging her along. “Have a good day, Doctor Tomlinson.” 

Louis likes to think that, maybe in another life, he would have stopped Harry from walking away. He convinces himself on the car ride home that if Grace weren’t there, he would have said something to Harry. When he gets home and gets in bed, Louis falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow and he dreams about Harry. 

Louis wakes up again around five, feeling a bit less tired than before and knowing that he’s going to have to force himself back to a normal schedule. The night shift sucks, he hates it with everything he has in him and he’s glad they don’t rotate shifts that often. He checks his phone, endlessly glad to see there’s no texts or pages from anyone at the hospital. There is, however, a text from Harry – which never happens. Harry never texted Louis. They’d had each other’s numbers as a formality, because if one day a heart comes in Louis will have to be able to call Harry immediately, but they never really… texted. Sure, a confirmation here and there, especially that one night they went out. 

Slightly nervous, he opens the text.  _ Grace’s doc says she’s gotten worse since the last time you saw her. He really wants to go for a transplant.  _

Louis groans, rubbing his eyes and sitting upright. He tries to push heavy concern to the back of his mind and puts his full attention on answering Harry’s text in a professional manner. 

_ We’re really working on getting a transplant. I’ll speak with your regular doc and see what we can do to make grace more comfortable for the time being.  _

He presses send and immediately drops his phone back on the bed, like that’ll lessen the impact when Harry reads and replies to the text. This is such a trivial thing, texting, but he still feels flustered. He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel. 

Louis showers, hoping that it snaps him out of the night shift trance he’s fallen into. It does a little bit, he’s further out of his head than he’s been since his date with Harry. He goes through the pile of bills on the counter before ordering takeaway (tonight it’s Thai) for himself and sitting down on the couch. 

He flips through channels for a little while, settling on a Housewives rerun (Lottie got him hooked on it, is that a crime?) when he doesn’t find anything else that’s better. The Thai comes just as the next episode starts. 

And he sits there, eats, and watches until he gets too tired to keep his eyes open and falls asleep to Lisa Vanderpump yelling about something that really doesn’t matter. 

 

********

 

**FOUR DAYS**

 

“I was a breath away from getting my hands on a heart for you last night,” Louis says, sounding disappointed. Harry feels his excitement peak before it promptly drops again. “But a little boy in another hospital got his hands on it before I could.” 

“Why?” Grace asks. Harry wishes he could wipe all the disappointment from her face. But he can’t, he can’t take any of her pain or disappointment away. 

“Because he needed it more than you do. But that doesn’t mean  _ you  _ don’t need it, too. I’m going to put you back on a vasodilator to widen your blood vessels so blood travels more easily. It’ll prevent hypertension and any further complications like you’ve been having recently.” 

“ _ More  _ medication?” Harry asks, exasperated. He’s so fucking tired of this not working out in Grace’s favor. He just wants her to be okay again. 

“It’s in Grace’s best interest. After the stroke scare and the recent increase in relatively minor blue spells you reported to her regular doctor, it seems that Grace’s heart is beginning to struggle under the effects of the congenital defect. Her heart is working hard to keep distributing blood and oxygen to her whole body, and it’s only getting harder by the day.” 

Grace sighs, looking entirely disappointed and Harry really, really wants to take it all away. “Are we done for today?” 

“Yeah, kid. We’ll leave, let you get changed,” Louis says. “Hopefully we don’t see you back here for awhile, right?” 

Grace nods, and her eyes follow both her father and Louis out of the room. In the hallway, Louis nods Harry goodbye and starts to walk away, but Harry follows him. “Louis, are you going to be able to save my daughter?” he asks. 

Louis stops in his tracks, turning to face Harry. “I’m going to try, that’s what I’ve told you from the very beginning.” 

“You told us that you’d be able to get her a heart and that you’d be able to save her.” Harry says angrily. “Right now it’s not really looking too good.” 

Louis sighs, looking around the hall at their surroundings. They’re in the middle of a bustling hospital hallway and Harry’s accusing Louis of not being an adequate doctor and this probably isn’t a good look for either of them. “Let’s… go somewhere more private, yeah? We can talk about Grace and about options and, just, you know. This.” 

“I just want you to help us, Louis.” Harry says pleadingly, feeling himself get near tears. 

Louis sighs again, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him into the nearest room, which happens to be an oncall room, Harry quickly realizes. “I’m  _ trying  _ to do something for Grace. This is all just a shitton of trial and error. I’m sorry, but that’s how it works. Things happen to Grace and then we have to figure out ways to fix them. It’s a waiting game.” 

“I don’t want it to be a waiting game. It’s been a waiting game for the last twelve years. I’ve been waiting for twelve years for Grace to get better. She’s been waiting for twelve years for her mother to come back. I’ve been waiting months for the heart that you promised for us - the heart you promised  _ her.”  _ Now he’s angry, so fucking angry. “I’m so pissed now, I’m pissed at myself and at Lauren and at  _ you  _ and at that stupid, faulty heart that’s living in my daughter’s chest even though it doesn’t deserve to be there.” 

The look on Louis’ face is sad, maybe even full of pity, and Harry  _ hates  _ it. “You’re upset and that’s expected, Harry. You’re allowed to be upset, I’d be concerned if you  _ weren’t _ upset like this. But you have to believe me when I say that I’m doing everything I can do for your daughter. These vasodilators will help her, they’re going to hold her over until I can find her a damn heart. You have to let the system work, Harry. Every family has to go through it.” 

Harry exhales heavily, turning his back on Louis for only a second before turning back to look at him. Louis’ in his scrubs and he looks disappointed and he looks like he feels like he’s letting Harry down and Harry just… wants. So Harry puts his hands on Louis’ chest and crowds him against the wooden door and kisses him. 

Louis kisses just like he did the other times Harry kissed him; confident and teasing. Even though, if anyone, Louis’ in the compromising position – both literally and… ethically – he still kisses like he’s in control of everything. And Harry just… lets him have it. Even when Harry tries to slow it down and pull away, Louis’ chasing him back again. 

“Grace is gonna be wondering where I am.” Harry says lowly. “Hopefully we don’t see you for awhile, right?” 

He backs away, leaving Louis speechless in the doorway of the oncall room. Grace is sitting patiently in the waiting room, talking to a young nurse happily when Harry finds her. “Ready to go, Gracie?” he asks, hoping she doesn’t notice any change in his demeanor. 

Grace nods, accompanying him to the car without much of a fight or any commentary. She gets into the front seat of the car without asking her father if that’s where she can sit (he’s still a little wary about her sitting up there, alright?), and that’s how Harry knows something’s up. Grace also doesn’t turn the radio on, even when they’ve pulled completely out of the parking lot, and that’s what really gives it away. 

“Everything alright, G?” he asks, glancing over at her. 

“Are you in love with Doctor Tomlinson?” She asks, sounding confused and accusatory and firm all at once. 

Harry stumbles over his words, eventually settling on a clear, “What?” 

“You heard me. I know you did. So, are you? You can tell me, you know. I already have my suspicions, anyway.” 

“Well, I’d just love to know how you came to this conclusion, Doctor Phil.” Harry says, the sarcasm coming up as a defense mechanism even against his own daughter.  _ Christ.  _

“You’ve just been… weird about him ever since we first met him. And then there was that night that you dumped me at Nana’s without any warning and said you’d gotten a job even though after you showed me  _ no  _ pictures of it, which you almost always do. And just now, you disappeared for a few minutes. And ever since that night you dumped me with Nana you’ve been so… sad.” 

Grace has got him. His twelve year old daughter has caught him red-handed. “I wouldn’t say I’m in  _ love  _ with him, G. That’s a big word and a lot of people say it when they don’t really mean it. It’s hard to tell. I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Did you love mum?” 

The car lurches as Harry’s foot falters on the gas and he curses himself for putting himself in this situation (and he curses Lauren and Louis, too, while he’s out there throwing around curses). “Maybe we should talk about this at home, love?” 

Grace is quiet for a moment. Harry glances at her, seeing her nodding slowly, before she reaches forward and turns the radio on for the rest of the ride home. 

 

At home, Grace makes Harry sit opposite her on the couch, so they can look at each other, and she asks him the same question again. “Did you love mum?” 

“I… did, for a little while. But it was… I was really young when I met her, Grace. We were still in school. I was seventeen and I thought anything was love – we both did. Love and commitment were different things then.”

“So do you love Louis?” 

“I don’t know, G. It was different with your mum, love, because even that had less of a grey area than there is with Doctor Tomlinson. There’s a line and ethics and Doctor Tomlinson and I cannot be a thing because ethics won’t allow it.” 

“Real ethics or  _ your  _ ethics?” she asks challengingly. “Because  _ I  _ think it’s your ethics. I think you like him. Or love him, at least a little bit. But if you loved mum, and now you love Louis… does that, like, make you. Bi?” 

Harry wasn’t aware he’d been raising his daughter to interview like fucking Oprah. “Um. Well, it’s like… you know how you can put different things on your sandwich? Some people like cheese or tomatoes and some people like both. Or neither. And some people like more than that, too. It’s–”

Grace cuts him off with a laugh. “Dad, seriously? You’re acting like I don’t know about this already. Or like it would even make a  _ difference.” _

And  _ that’s  _ the daughter Harry raised. He raised her to be kind and smart and curious and stern and accepting. And it feels kind of strange, coming out to his daughter. He kind of prayed that she would just never question it or it would never come up, but at the same time, he’s prepared for this. 

“I don’t… There’s not really a label on it, Gracie. I don’t feel the need. What matters is I loved your mum and I can love just about whoever I please and it won’t matter to me.” 

“Or me.” she says confidently. “Why can’t you love Doctor Tomlinson, again? Because, no offense, dad, but your ethics kind of suck.” 

“You’d want that? Two dads?” 

A smile spreads across Grace’s face. “ _ Now  _ who’s talking about love and commitment with the Doctor?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s nice to see this whole defect thing isn’t taking a toll on your intelligence.” he says sarcastically. “Thank you for asking, G. And for…” 

“Caring? You’re welcome. Can we order in? I really want Chinese food.” 

 

********

 

**THREE DAYS**

 

Harry’s phone rings while he’s sitting at his desk going through photographs from his most recent gig. Grace is back at dance, thankfully, Harry thinks she was going to go mad if she didn’t get to go back soon. So he has the house to himself for the day, and Harry kind of doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

So, yeah. The phone rings. Harry answers without checking the caller ID. “Hello?” 

“Why’d you kiss me in the oncall room yesterday?” The voice is unmistakably Louis’, and he’s talking about something that happened with Louis, obviously. So, yeah. Harry isn’t surprised to hear Louis. Well, he is, but at the same time, he’s not. 

“Um… A moment of weakness? Also, I’m a grown man who can kiss whoever he damn well pleases?” 

“No.” Louis says firmly. A door clicks on his end of the line, Louis sealing himself in somewhere no one will be able to overhear the conversation he’s having. “You don’t get to kiss whoever you damn well please, not after you went out on a date with me, got  _ off  _ with me, then blew me off the very next day.”

“I did what I had to do for my daughter’s health. Not–not the sleeping with you thing, I mean. I mean the putting a stop to… our thing.” Harry says, even though he feels like he should have said something different. 

“I’m thirty-one years old, Harry. I’m a damn good surgeon. I’m only thirty-one, but I’m also  _ thirty-one.  _ I don’t want to just fuck around like this anymore, I can’t afford to. I’m in love with you, Harry, I thought we had something that was  _ meaningful _ —”

“You can’t be in love with me. You barely know anything about me,” Harry says accusingly. This time, his heart is screaming  _ I could be in love with you too, show me you care, give me a reason to stay.  _

Louis lets out a laugh. “I know you take your tea and your coffee with a little bit of milk, I know your favorite drink is wine and it really only takes two drinks to get you going. I know you had Grace when you were seventeen and her mum ran out on you, but you’ve done a damn good job raising her on your own. I know you’re a photographer and I think weddings are your favorite to work. I know you’re close with your mum and that everything you do is for Grace. You’d do anything for her and that’s why you’re hesitant to do anything with me.” 

Harry is silent for a moment. He thinks, for a moment, that Louis will keep rambling, but he doesn’t. “I’m so fucking sorry, Louis.” 

Louis clears his throat. “Alright. Great. I’ve got to get back to work, so, uh. I’ll let you know if I get anything for Grace.” 

The line clicks dead before Harry even gets the chance to say anything else. “You’re the biggest idiot to ever walk this planet,” he tells himself, shaking his head. 

 

********

 

**AUGUST 15**

 

Louis’ standing in the ER, reading a patient chart, when he hears a nurse call his name. He steps out from behind the desk, looking for the nurse that called him but instead seeing  _ Harry,  _ looking distraught and disheveled. “What’ve we got?” Louis asks, knowing that he’s got to be professional as ever, especially since Grace is now in A&E. 

“Grace Styles, twelve year old with a congenital heart defect.” The nurse begins a long-winded explanation of the patient, to which Louis looks at her disapprovingly. “Right. Appears to be having a stroke. An examination will tell us more.” 

“Okay. Grace?” Louis asks, stepping past the nurse as she hooks Grace up to a heart monitor to look in her eyes. “I think you’re having a stroke, love, but can you talk to me? Tell me how you feel?” 

“Good. No good.” Grace murmurs, her eyes drooping shut as soon as Louis pulls his hand away. 

“Okay. I wanna get her an EKG and get her up to CT, stat. Then get her in the ICU. If she starts to show any further signs of a stroke or even –  _ especially –  _ a pulmonary embolism, I want her on clot-busters and I want you to page me. Immediately.” Louis says firmly. 

“Doctor, where are you going?” 

“I’m going to find her father and I’m going to find her a heart.” Louis replies, squeezing Grace’s hand one final time before leaving the bed to find Harry, standing by the nurses station.

Harry sees him coming, and meets him halfway. “Is she gonna be okay?” 

“I have two theories for what’s happening to your daughter right now, Harry. She’s either stroking, or she’s in the middle of a pulmonary embolism, which is a blood clot in the lung. An EKG and a CT will confirm either of my theories — neither of them are good. We’re bringing her up to CT now, and then she’ll be moved to a bed in the ICU.” 

“Is she going to be okay?” 

“I’m pulling every string I have to pull and I’m using this to get Grace a heart. It’s gonna be a long night, Harry, but I’m going to do everything I can. I’d call your mum, maybe, have her come be here with you. I’ll come find you once Grace is out of CT.” 

 

Louis stands at the nurses’ station in the ICU, on hold with the NHS. Grace still hasn’t come back from her CT, but he’s already got the thrombolytic on hand because the nurse called up to say that she’s having an embolism, and they’ve got to get the clotter in her. Harry rounds the corner with his mother by his side, followed by the hospital bed that Grace has been brought around in. 

“You.” Louis points to the nearest nurse. “Stand here, listen to the stupid jingle they’re playing. If someone comes on, call me back over.” 

Louis follows the Styles’ into the bay, syringe already in hand. “So Grace is having a pulmonary embolism, which is a blood clot in her lung, in this case her left lung. No stroke, but the paralysis you brought her in for could be attributed to that severe lack of blood flow. Grace’s heart is working especially hard under narrowed blood vessels,” Louis pauses, pressing the thrombolytic into the IV, “and it’s restricting blood and oxygen delivery.”

“I thought the vasodilator you put her on last time we saw you would solve that problem.” Harry says, sounding accusatory. “You said that it would keep her blood vessels from constricting and prevent the problems she’d been facing.” 

“Grace’s heart… doesn’t like vasodilators,” Louis says, shrugging. “It’s just something that didn’t work for her congenital heart defect. Every illness has its thing.” 

“Doctor Tomlinson, NHS is on the phone!” The nurse calls. 

Harry follows right behind Louis back out to the desk. “Hi, this is Doctor Tomlinson. I have a twelve year old girl with a congenital heart defect in the middle of a pulmonary embolism. Her heart is only getting worse and I–” 

“Doctor Tomlinson, we don’t have a heart to give your patient right now.” 

“There’s  _ no one  _ on life support in any nearby hospital? Every single heart is either unviable or taken?” 

The woman on the line sighs. “I’d call the cardiac surgeon at Chelsea and Westminster, Doctor Tomlinson. They have a heart but I’m not sure they’re prepared to–”

“Thank you.” Louis hangs up abruptly. “Sam, I need you to get me the number of Doctor James Miller at Chelsea immediately. Call and get him on the line, I’ll be right back.” 

“What’d they say?” Harry asks, following Louis back into Grace’s ICU bay. 

“I’m gonna have to fight for a heart, Mr. Styles, but I’m not going to give it up. Grace is still sedated for the time being, but she should be coming out of it relatively soon. Nurse made a note in her chart; she was rather unsettled during her CT.” 

“She hates them. Always has. And she’s especially scared right now, so she freaked out.” 

“Rightfully so.” Louis nods. “That clot buster should be working its magic right about now, so we’ll keep Grace on oxygen and the EKG to control and monitor her activity. That little heart of hers is working very hard, and I only need it to hold on for a little while longer.” 

“Doctor Tomlinson, phone!” the nurse calls, already extending the phone over the desk for Louis. 

“Wait here, I’ll be back.” 

Louis rushes to the phone, immediately jumping into game-saving mode. “Doctor Miller, this is Doctor Tomlinson over at Royal Brompton. I hear you have a viable heart that’s a match to my kid.” 

“I have a patient who could use the same heart, doctor.” 

“Is that patient twelve years old?” 

Doctor Miller pauses. “Well, no. But that doesn’t mean they deserve the heart any more or any less.”

“Grace Styles is having a pulmonary embolism because her heart can no longer pump blood sufficiently. She is twelve years old and has been suffering for  _ years  _ with a heart that’s not fit to her life nor her personality. She needs a new heart  _ tonight  _ or she won’t make it through the night,” Louis’ blowing that up, for sure. And he feels like shit for stealing a heart right out of another patient’s chest, but Louis’ patient needs that heart. “I can send a transplant team or I can come myself, Doctor Miller.” 

Miller sighs. “Let me get back to you?” 

“James, if this phone doesn’t ring again in ten minutes, I’m coming over there myself to recover that heart for my patient.” 

“I’ll see what I can do, Doctor Tomlinson.” 

Louis hangs up then, slamming the landline down rather aggressively. “Can you page Doctor Malik?” he asks the nurse, resting his head in his hands. 

Before Louis even picks his head up again, he hears Zayn’s voice. “You’re getting her a heart?” 

“Trying. Miller’s got it over at Chelsea. He’s calling back in ten, and if he doesn’t say he’s giving me the heart then I’m going over and ripping it from his hands. Transplant recovery team is on standby waiting for my go ahead when Miller calls back.” Louis replies, finally picking his head up. 

“Is she gonna make it?” 

“Yeah, we got her on clot busters and she’s starting to wake up a bit from the sedative. But if I don’t get a new heart in her sometime soon, she’s not gonna make it,” he says, hanging Zayn the manila folder with Grace’s CT scan. 

“Her blood vessels are so fucking constricted,” Zayn mutters, shaking his head. “No wonder she’s forming clots and passing out.” 

“It’s only been getting worse. The vasodilators I put her on the last time I saw her didn’t do shit for her. I really fucking need Miller–” 

As if on cue, as if summoned, the phone rings. “This is Doctor Tomlinson.” 

“You can send your recovery team, Doctor.” Miller says dully. “Good luck with your procedure.” 

“Thank you, thank you  _ so  _ much. I’ll even send your guy a fruit basket for his loss,” Louis says, only half-kidding. “We got it.” he says, hanging up the phone. 

Zayn breaks out into a grin. “Go let Harry know, then.” 

In Grace’s bay, she’s awake and talking quietly to her grandmother. “Harry.” Louis says softly. “Can I talk to you?” 

Harry nods, following Louis out and sliding the door shut a bit. “We’ve got a heart coming in from Chelsea and Westminster. It’ll be about thirty minutes, so we have to start–” Louis’ cut off when Harry hugs him, hard and tight. 

“Thank you, Louis. Thank you so fucking much,” he whispers, drawing back after a beat too long. Louis wants to keep holding him; so he forces himself back over that line. 

“We have to prep Grace for surgery. I don’t want to waste a second once that heart is in this building. It’s a long surgery. Like I said, this is going to be a long night. But I’m going to do everything I can. I’ll send Doctor Malik out periodically with updates for you.” 

“You better perform the best fucking heart transplant of your life, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry says, laughing slightly through the tears that have inevitably begun falling. “I have to tell Grace, then she’s all yours.” 

Louis nods, stepping away and letting Harry have the moment. “This was a tough one, hm?” Zayn asks. 

“Yeah, it was.” Louis replies softly. “But I think it’ll end up alright.” 

Grace makes Louis stay right by her side all the way down to the OR, asking him a million different questions about the surgery. He explains it to her as best he can without it seeming too scary or complicated, even though a heart transplant is only those two things. While they prep her in the OR, Louis stands in the scrub room and tries to focus on his breathing. 

This is a moment that was months in the making, something that Louis had been promising and chasing after with no sign of an end. Grace is on his OR table right now, Louis is going to open up her chest and take her heart out and put in a new one and he feels… overwhelmed. 

The door opens and Zayn comes in, turning on the sink and beginning to scrub in. “You still haven’t scrubbed,” he notes, looking over his shoulder at Louis. “Nervous?”

“Only because if I kill his daughter I’ll have no chance of ever getting anything out of this even though I’m pretty sure I’m never getting over him. Also, heart transplants are stressful,” Louis shrugs, finally stepping up to the sink. 

Zayn laughs at him, shaking his head. “C’est la vie, mate.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I just have to perform the most flawless heart transplant I’ve ever performed and then it’s fine, it’ll be fine.” 

He finishes up and gets in there, smiling at Grace. “Ready to get yourself a new heart, kid?” 

She nods. “How long will it take?” 

“A few hours, if I do my job right. And I’m good at my job, so. Four hours at the least, love.” 

Grace nods again, biting on her lip. “I’m a little scared.” 

“It’s just gonna be like you’re taking a nap.” Louis tells her. “The best nap you’ll ever take in your whole life. And before you know it, you’ll wake up, and your dad and Nana will be there and you’re gonna have a brand new heart in your chest.” 

“You better be as good as everyone said you were,” Grace says, before the anesthesiologist fits the mask over her mouth. 

“Count backwards from ten, Miss Styles.”  

 

********

 

Harry sits in the waiting room with his head in his hands. He’d tried to prepare for this moment; for the moment Louis and his team wheeled Grace down the hallway to the OR and those doors shut and Harry was no longer allowed to stand by her side. Yeah, he’d  _ attempted  _ to prepare, but his dreams and his imagination are nowhere near the real thing. 

“Maybe you should try to get some rest, love,” his mother suggests, sitting down next to him. 

Harry shakes his head. “I want to stay awake. Louis said he’d send Zayn out every so often to update us. I just want these hours to be over with, I just want her to be out and in the bed where I can see her and touch her and see for myself that she’s stable and alright.” 

“Is this going to keep her around for a long time?” 

“Twenty years, give or take. By then she’ll be thirty-two and I’ll be forty-nine and we’ll both be dying so it doesn’t matter anyway.” 

“Don’t say that, H.” 

Harry picks his head up and reaches for the shitty hospital coffee that his mother brought him. “She’s in surgery right now. On a bypass machine. She’s gonna have a brand new heart. Somebody else’s heart is going to beat inside of her. That’s…” 

“Mind blowing. Yeah, love. Of course it is. And this is a big surgery, but she’s gonna be alright. She’s gonna make it, she’s strong and you raised her to never go down without a fight.” 

“Mum,” Harry groans, leaning back in his chair. “I think I’m in love with Doctor Tomlinson.” 

“Oh, honey. You’re really just admitting that now?” Anne laughs. “I think he and myself and Grace have all known that for far longer than you have.”

Harry glares at her. “Don’t laugh, it’s not funny. This is very serious, mum. He’s a surgeon and he’s performing a heart transplant on my  _ daughter  _ right now. I can’t be in love with him.” 

“Once that heart’s in her chest, he really won’t be her surgeon anymore.” 

“But  _ still _ , mum. It’s the concept. The morals. The ethics.” 

Anne rolls her eyes. “I think you’ll figure it out, H. You know what you want and I think you know how to get it. You’ll end up doing the right thing. Whatever that may end up being.” 

Harry sighs, shaking his head. “It’s hard, mum.” 

“I know it is, honey. But like I said, I think you know what you want. I think you’ve always known what you wanted, and it was never…” 

“Lauren. I know.” 

Anne wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer over the armrests between them. Harry just sighs again, closing his eyes and trying to pretend that he isn’t in a hospital. 

 

Doctor Malik comes out after about two hours. Harry sees him before Zayn sees them, and he stands up immediately. “Is everything okay?” he asks, cutting across the waiting room. 

“I’m here and not Louis, so yes,” Zayn replies. Harry exhales heavily in relief. “Transplant is going well. He’s just removed her heart and is putting the new one in now. It’ll take a while to connect all the blood vessels and then take her off the bypass machine, but Grace is doing well.” 

“How much longer?” 

“Another two hours or so, probably. But, like I said, she’s doing really well. The next person you see will be Doctor Tomlinson and Grace, if everything goes smoothly.” 

“So if I see you again before I see Louis, then I should be concerned?” 

Zayn grins. “Yeah, I guess so. But I don’t see that happening. Louis is awfully good at what he does. This will go off without a hitch.” 

Harry nods, sighing. “Okay. Good. Go help him save my daughter, then. Please.” 

  
  


Harry’s staring at the door where Zayn came out, waiting for Louis. It’s been over two hours, but it feels like it’s been far longer than that. His mother’s up pacing laps around the hospital floor, the clock is ticking past midnight, Harry feels like time is going achingly slow. 

Finally, gloriously, Louis comes through the doors, still wearing his scrubs. Harry rushes to meet him. “How is she?”

“They’re bringing her up now. She did great. She’s got a new heart in her chest. We’ve got her on a breathing tube now, and she’s got a couple IVs for medication and fluids. There’s chest tubes in that are draining her chest and lungs of fluid.” 

Harry wants to get down on his knees and praise him for saving his daughter and for not giving up. Harry wants to hug him for a really, really long time and thank him for saving his daughter’s life. But he stops himself, because they need to be professional and Harry can’t keep  _ doing  _ this and Louis’ covered in Grace’s blood from her fucking  _ heart transplant  _ and suddenly Harry feels very faint. “She’s going to be okay?” he asks. Instead of bowing down, instead of hugging, instead of passing out. 

“We’re gonna keep an eye on her. But for now, she’s going to be okay. She’s not out of the woods, we have to keep a close eye on her in the early stages to make sure she isn’t automatically rejecting the heart. I’ll have a nurse come by at some point tomorrow with paperwork about where you go from here,” Louis explains, beginning to peel the scrub gown off and ball it up. “You can go in as soon as they’ve got her up.” 

“How long until she’ll wake up?” 

“A half hour or so, maybe. She’ll be loopy from the anesthesia. And, like I said, she’ll be covered in wires and tubes. But as soon as she’s awake I can work on getting that breathing tube out, since that’ll be really uncomfortable and alarming for her. The important thing to remember is that she made it through that surgery.” 

“Thank you.” Harry says softly. “For not walking away.” 

Louis smiles, tired but still bright. “I could never. I’ll be back in a little bit to see if the anesthesia has worn off.” 

With that, Louis walks back through the doors and Harry turns around, looking for his mum. “We have to go back up to the ICU,” he says, trying to will away tears. “That’s where they’re bringing her so she can recover.” 

 

It takes thirty three minutes for Grace to start waking up. She looks alarmed by the tube in her throat, but Harry manages to get her to calm down before she hurts herself. A nurse comes in and asks Grace a few questions while she takes the tube out, distracting her while it happens. “I got a new heart?” Grace asks, eyes already drooping shut again. “Louis did it?” 

“Yeah, love.” Harry replies, running a hand through her hair. “Louis did it. You should get some rest now, okay?”

“Stop worrying, dad.” 

Harry laughs wetly, tears finally beginning to slide down his face after so long of not letting them. “I’m never gonna stop worrying, G. You should know that.” 

Grace turns her cheek into her pillow. “You should go thank Doctor Tomlinson, I think.” 

And then she falls asleep again. Harry leans back in his chair, sighing heavily. The tiredness hits him suddenly, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep. 

 

********

 

“That went off without a hitch, mate. Why do you seem so… sad?” Zayn asks, sitting down across from Louis in the oncall room. 

“I’m not sad. You’re really bad at reading people sometimes, you know?” Louis says snarkily. “I’m glad she finally got her heart. It was a long time coming.” 

“Yeah, I know. Now you don’t really get to see them every week, though. What’s gonna happen with Harry?” 

Louis shrugs, laying back on the mattress. The oncall mattresses always suck, he makes this mental note every single time he lays in one. “I don’t know. I tried not to think about it too much.” 

“ _ Tried  _ and failed, I’m assuming?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn is so ridiculously prodding. But for some reason Louis keeps on answering him. “A little bit, I guess. Four and a half hours in the middle of the night is a long time to not think about certain things.” 

Zayn laughs at him. “You’re in love with him and you’re not going to do anything about it. You’ve been on this earth for thirty-one years, I thought you’d be better at this by now. Your mum raised you to be, like, romantic and stuff.” 

“No she didn’t, oh my god. I’m really beginning to think you don’t know me at all. I did what I could to try and get Harry to, like, see me, but he wasn’t interested. I’ve done all I can do.” 

Louis falls asleep shortly after Zayn makes another snide remark.

  
  


(So, rightfully so, Zayn takes matters into his own hands. After Louis’ fallen into his well-deserved and well-needed slumber, Zayn heads back up to the ICU in search of Harry. He finds him in the quiet hallway, staring at Grace in her bed and holding a cup of tea. 

“How’s she doing?” Zayn asks, coming up beside him and attempting to open the conversation easily. 

Harry glances over at him. Zayn pretends he doesn’t see a glimmer of disappointment when Harry realizes it’s not Louis. “She’s doing alright. She wakes up every so often, mumbles something incoherent, then falls asleep again. She needs her rest. But I know she’s grateful that she got what Louis promised.” 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Zayn challenges. Harry shrugs. “He’s driving himself mad over you. And, he doesn’t know I’m talking to you, and I hope that you won’t tell him. But he’s felt this way for a long time and he feels like it’s unrequited. But I don’t think it is.” 

“It’s not.” Harry says softly. “Not unrequited, I mean. I think… I remember the moment he walked into the room the first time we met him and I just thought ‘this is going to be a problem’, because he was so… wonderful that I knew it was only a matter of time.” 

“You should tell him, Harry. I’m really in no position to be telling you what to do. But Lou’s my best mate and I have a duty to look out for him. I know you’re scared of what might happen, but I don’t think you need to be. He’s in it for the long run. Whatever you asked him for, he’d do it without hesitating. I haven’t seen him like this since… before his mum passed.” 

That really gets Harry’s attention. “His mum?” 

“See? That’s a conversation to have with him. I think you should tell him, Harry. Good luck with Grace, I’m glad everything turned out alright.” 

With that, Zayn goes back down to the oncall room, feeling entirely courageous and smug and like the best wingman in the whole goddamn world.)  

 

When Louis wakes up again, he’s still alone in the oncall room. It’s just after three in the morning and he still feels unbelievably tired. He checks his pager, seeing only one non-urgent one from Zayn about Grace. It’s just an update, saying that she’s doing well and is breathing on her own now without much issue. 

Louis decides to go see her, just pay Grace and Harry a visit and make sure that Grace is  _ really  _ reacting to everything as well as she should be. He pulls on a new set of scrubs, still feeling gross even after changing. He heads up to the ICU, seeing Harry at the nurses station filling out endless paperwork. 

Louis doesn’t say anything to him, not really knowing  _ what  _ to say, and goes into Grace’s room. He checks her vitals, EKG still running well and showing no signs of rejection. “How’s she doing?” Harry asks, standing in the doorway when Louis turns around. 

“She’s doing alright. As well as she can be doing, I suppose.” Louis replies. “She’s not showing any signs of rejection. It’s a quiet night, and that’s a good thing.” 

“The nurse thinks she’ll be out of the ICU some time tomorrow, is that what you’re thinking?” 

Louis shrugs. “Ideally, yes. Then she’ll be trapped in a regular room for almost two weeks while we continue monitoring her and she recovers.” 

Harry nods slowly. “Okay, that’s good. Well, not good, but. You know.” 

Louis smiles. “Yes, I know. Getting out of the ICU is a good thing, you’re allowed to be happy about it. Grace is doing fine, so how are you doing?” 

“Better, now that she’s… doing better. I’m still worrying, still scared. I’m always gonna be worried.” Harry exhales shakily. “It was scary, you know. Having her in there and not knowing what was going on while you had… had her chest cut open and her heart out.” 

Louis can see the tears in Harry’s eyes, and he wants to comfort him but knows that he can’t, shouldn’t, isn’t  _ wanted _ to comfort him. Harry doesn’t  _ want  _ him like that. “I know. But you handled it so, so insanely well. The whole damn process, you were incredible.” 

“I just… always want to do the right thing for her. I wanted her to have a normal childhood, you know? I taught her how to ride a bike and how to play football –  _ both _ footballs – and when she asked me about stuff I told her, told her everything.” 

“Let’s go somewhere, Harry. You’re really upset and–”

“The oncall room? Down the hall? Please.” Harry rubs his face with his hands, looking at Louis pleadingly. 

There’s a nurse about to go into the room, but she stops when Louis gives her a look and whispers a silent thank you. 

“She’s everything to me, you know?” Harry starts again, and Louis just lets him go. “Her mum left us and I’m almost positive she’s on an eleven-year drug bender, because that’s what she was big on when we were growing up. And Grace asks sometimes, you know, and that’s the one thing I’ve never been honest with her about. I’ve told her about everything, every serious and unserious topic she’s ever asked about. I told her about how Lauren and I met and how we ended up having her and what day was the last day her mum saw her. I told her about why there’s bad people in the world and what  _ sex  _ was when she asked last year. I told her about my sexuality and I told her about  _ you,  _ and she handled it all so brilliantly. And I just. She’s everything.” 

Louis nods slowly, carefully thinking about what to say. Thankfully, Harry clearly doesn’t expect Louis to speak, because he does it himself. “All you’re thinking about is how I told her about you,” he says, monotone and rolling his eyes. 

“I am not–” Louis splutters, trying to defend himself even though he knows Harry knows there’s no hope. 

Harry laughs. “I told her about you because she thinks I’m in  _ love  _ with you, and I couldn’t believe that I sat there on my couch and listened to my daughter know more about me than  _ I  _ know about me.” 

“Well.” Louis says, swallowing hard. “Is it true? Is she right, I mean. About you.” 

Harry laughs again, sounding frantic this time. “I mean, I guess fucking so. These have been the longest, most gruelling twelve years of my life and these months with you treating Grace have been long and miserable and scary but every time you walked into the room it didn’t feel as bad. You’re pretty and you’re talented and you’re so, so nice and I just… I knew it’d be a problem the second I saw you.” 

“Well, if it’s any comfort to you, I knew it’d be a problem for me, too.” Louis replies. “I highly doubt it’s any consolation, but I feel like I had to let you know that.” 

Harry sits down on one of the beds, smiling widely. “Louis, what I am I supposed to do?” 

“I’m gonna be heading home soon, so. You have to make up your mind, H. That’s all. Decide what you want.” 

Louis leaves Harry sitting in the oncall room alone. He heads out into the hospital, checking on Grace once more before he clocks out, very well-deservingly. As he’s digging for his keys in his bag, he hears someone call his name that makes him turn around. “Don’t go.” Harry’s saying, standing a few feet away from where Louis’ stopped. 

Louis stares at him, trying to hide the fact that he’s  _ overjoyed  _ that Harry came and stopped him. “What?” 

“Well, like, you can go home, obviously. You can leave the hospital. But I don’t… I don’t want you to leave  _ me _ .” Harry clarifies, stumbling over his words a little bit and clearly still very worked up. “I know you’re done being all heroic and live-saving for Grace for the most part, but I don’t want to stop seeing you like that. I want to see you all the time, you know? When you’re in the hospital in your scrubs and when you’re tired from a twelve hour shift and when you’re playing kan-jam in the backyard and when you’re cooking dinner and drinking tea and… I want to keep seeing you, Louis. Don’t leave.” 

And,  _ fuck,  _ that’s all Louis’ wanted to hear ever since he kissed Harry for the first time. “I don’t want to leave.” he admits. “I don’t know what this means for us but I know I don’t want to leave.” 

Harry nods, seemingly approving. “Okay, good. I’m, um, okay. I’m glad you don’t want to leave. I should go back inside, to Grace, but… You’ll be back tomorrow, right?” 

“Around noon, probably, yeah. I’ll see you then, but you should think about going home and getting some rest.”

“I don’t–yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.” 

And then Louis walks away, but he doesn’t feel like he’s leaving anything behind. 

 

**FIVE DAYS AFTER.**

 

Harry’s early, unreasonably so. Louis’ a doctor, of course his timing won’t end up being completely punctual. But Harry was kind of nervous, Grace ended up telling that to him before he left her, and he realizes as he’s sitting here that he’s definitely nervous. The next time Harry looks up towards the door, Louis happens to be coming through it, eyes scanning the crowd for Harry. 

Harry waves, somewhat tentatively, but Louis sees him and smiles widely. “I don’t have to, like, pull out your chair, do I?” Harry asks, grinning. 

“God, you’re an awful date.” Louis scoffs, still not sitting down, like he’s waiting for Harry to actually pull the chair out. But instead he leans down and kisses Harry, on the mouth, in the middle of the restaurant, open lipped and almost tongue if Harry doesn’t pull away. “Sorry. I just… wanted to do that,” he murmurs, sitting down across from him. 

Harry smiles. “I wanted you to do that.” 

“How’s Grace doing?” 

“She’s good, great, even. But I, uh, I don’t wanna talk about her tonight, if that’s alright.” Harry says, staring down at his menu. “I kinda want to talk about us, you know what I mean?” 

“You want to play a bit of twenty questions then, Styles?” Louis asks, grinning even wider. “Alright, we can talk about us.” 

And that’s what they do, a lot of it. Harry tells about how he grew up with his mum and his sister and how close they all are, and about the one time he and Gemma brought home a baby bird that nearly sent their mother into cardiac arrest. And Louis tells Harry about his siblings ( _ all  _ his siblings, and the  _ babies _ ) and Harry almost start crying in the restaurant. 

“Your mum’s insane for putting up with all that. I can’t believe she did it. My mum would call her a saint.” Harry shakes his head. 

“Yeah. She, uh, she definitely was a saint.” Louis nods, swallowing hard. “It’s been years, but we all definitely still feel that… gap.” 

Harry reaches across the table and grabs Louis’ hand, rubbing the top of his hand with his thumb. “Yeah, that gap is always gonna be there, probably.” 

“I’ll tell you more about her, at some point. You just gotta give me time for that.” Louis says softly. “Just a little bit of time.” 

“Anything. Anything you need, you don’t even have to tell me at all. Not yet, you can wait as long as you need. I’ll be here, like all the time, so.” Harry tells him. 

Louis smiles, looking down at his and Harry’s hands. “Thank you. It’s–tell me about you now, yeah? I want to keep hearing about you, like listening to you talk. Tell me about things you like.” 

“Uh, wine. And my daughter, and watching romance movies, and… American football, and, yeah. I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to come up with things on the spot like that, you know.” 

Louis laughs at him, nodding. “I know it is. Did you say American football?” 

“Yeah. It’s almost better than our football. I love it, it’s so exciting and engaging and there’s so many  _ rules  _ and games and when I was younger my friends and I always watched and placed drinking bets,” Harry says excitedly, eyes wide and his hand releasing Louis’ to gesture. 

“You can do that with our football, too. The way you’re talking about our footie is sacrilegious, Styles.” Louis shakes his head disapprovingly. “What’s your team over there, anyway?” 

“Green Bay Packers. Bet against them once and had to get their logo tattooed. Been in love with them ever since.” 

“Tattooed, huh?” Louis arches his eyebrows. “I didn’t really get to look at those that the 

last time we did something like this.” 

“I’ve got lots of them, yeah.” Harry nods, pushing his sleeve up ever-so-slightly 

to reveal a sliver of what seems to be an anchor tattoo. “And you did see them. I’m pretty sure my shirt came off.”

“But I didn’t get to  _ look _ . Maybe I’ll get to see them tonight, then?” Louis asks, biting his lip. 

Harry wants to kiss him until he forgets his own name. “Who says you’re going to see anything tonight?” 

“I’m just being optimistic. Is that a crime?” Louis asks. “You said you wanted to see me, Harry, in all those different ways. I want to see you, too. I want to see you in all those ways and in ways that I probably shouldn’t talk about in the middle of a restaurant.” 

“Jesus Christ, Louis.” Harry says under his breath. “You can’t just… do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re so… so pretty and so hot and so charming that it’s only a matter of time before…” 

“Before what?” Louis presses, probably knowing that he’s pushing the limits but still going anyway. Harry glares at him, and Louis laughs. “What d’you say we get the check and get out of here?” 

Harry gets the waiter’s attention and he brings the check back rather quickly, which Louis snags before Harry can even though it should’ve been Harry paying. Louis says that Harry can “pay him back later” and winks, and Harry feels like he’s going to turn to jelly. 

“I’ve never seen your place,” Harry says, sitting in the front seat of Louis’ car. “So I think that’s where we should go. And we can get my car later.”

Louis nods, his fingertips tracing over Harry’s knee gently. “We can go to my place. Full disclosure, Niall might be sleeping on my couch, but I’ll just kick him out.” 

“You have a roommate?” Harry asks, looking over at Louis with wide eyes. 

“No, sometimes Niall just… stops by. I’ll kick him out if he’s actually there.” 

“What’re you expecting, Tomlinson?” 

“I want whatever you’ll give me.” Louis replies, keeping his eyes locked on the road. 

 

********

 

Harry’s got his head resting in the center of Louis’ chest, tracing the tattoos on his arms. “What’s this one?” he asks, tracing over a tattoo on Louis’ right arm. 

“Pac-man? Just got that because I could. I got super trigger-happy with tattoos when I was younger. Just got them to get them.” Louis says softly. 

“What about this number? Seventy-eight?” 

“Grandparents old house number. Grew up going there all the time, then they 

moved. Wanted to remember it.” Louis’ own hand is tracing over Harry’s left arm, grazing over the rose and the anchor. “Who’s Jackson?” 

“My godson. Love him half to death, might as well tattoo it on me.” Harry replies. “And I’m sure you know they’re a bit addictive. Kinda funny, isn’t it?” 

“What?” 

“Some of ours. Like, seems like they… match a little bit, don’t they?” Harry asks, touching the compass on Louis’ arm. The tattoos look gorgeous on Louis’ skin, Harry wants to kiss every single one of them while Louis tells him the story behind each and every one. 

Louis hums. “I suppose they do. I’ve always liked the idea of that. Matching tattoos, or whatever. Just never could find someone to settle down with.” 

“I’d do that, with you,” Harry murmurs, not really thinking about it but knowing in his heart that it’s the truth but also hoping that Louis didn’t hear him. 

Louis clears his throat. “Jesus, H. Can’t just say stuff like that. It’s like–” Louis gets cut off by beeping coming from his pager, set on the nightstand next to him. 

Harry watches as Louis stretches for it, reading what’s on the small screen. “D’you have to go in?” he asks, trying to get a read on Louis’ face. 

Louis shakes his head, putting the pager back down on the nightstand. “No one needs surgery. One of my patients is dropping in their stats, but that happens often. They just push fluids and put them on oxygen and they perk right back up. Blood pressure never drops too low. I’ve just instructed them to notify me whenever anything major happens. But, no, I don’t need to go in.” 

“Y’can kick me out, you know. I’m not fragile.” 

Louis laughs, jostling Harry on his chest as he scoots down further. Harry moves his head to the pillow, now face-to-face. “I don’t want to kick you out, Styles. I’d have done it a long time ago. You up for a shower?” 

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t wanna leave here.” 

“Are you… do you want to spend the night?” Louis asks tentatively. 

Harry appreciates his caution and finds the uncertainty rather charming. He bites his lip, debating. Grace and Anne both know where he is and who he’s with. Grace and Anne both aren’t stupid, so they probably know what’s  _ happening  _ where Harry is. “Yeah. If you’ll have me.” 

Louis smiles, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Of course I’ll have you.”

Harry kisses him again, deeper this time. Louis puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder, sliding to the back of his head as he lays Harry back on the mattress and fits himself between Harry’s legs. They’re still naked, Harry can still feel Louis  _ everywhere,  _ they’re kissing again and Harry really never wants to leave this bed. Harry exhales a breathy laugh, making Louis draw back a bit. “What’s so funny?” 

Harry shakes his head, kissing Louis again before answering. “Wanna go again? Or are you gonna struggle to get it up again, old man?” 

This time, Louis is the one laughing, and it’s glorious because Harry’s the one that  _ made  _ him laugh like that. “Never. Never gonna struggle to get it up with you. You’re so fucking beautiful, Harry.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Definitely. Most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Knew the second I saw you that I wanted you.” Louis murmurs, kissing along Harry’s jaw. “All those times we ended up alone together, had to convince myself not to jump your fucking bones. Your long curls and your smell and your legs, God. Really struggled.” 

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, watching Louis as he kisses down his chest and starts to disappear underneath the blanket. 

“Gonna suck your cock, if that’s okay.” 

Harry nods, gasping as Louis sucks a bruise on his hip. “More than okay. I might–fast. Might come, I mean.” 

“Are you sure you’re actually not a seventeen year old boy?” Louis asks, blanket shaking as he laughs. 

“You’re just really hot, and all this talk about tattoos and you wanting to jump my bones. And you have a gorgeous mouth. So of course I’m going to–  _ fuck,  _ Louis,” he gasps, hand twisting in the sheets as Louis just  _ goes  _ for it.

Harry uses his other hand to push the blanket off, get it so he can see Louis, see Louis’ pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, and Harry thinks – if he had poor self control – that he would have come right then. “So beautiful,” he whispers, tangling a hand in Louis’ hair. 

Louis stops talking, stops with the jokes and the coming up for air and the dirty talk and Harry shuts up too, just letting Louis make him feel good. Harry comes after Louis takes him almost too deep and Harry can just  _ feel  _ him open up and he loses it. 

“C’mere and kiss me,” Harry murmurs, sinking into the mattress. 

“Probably gonna taste gross,” Louis tells him, moving back up over him anyway. Louis kisses him slowly, all tongue and lips and gorgeous. 

“Taste like me.” Harry tells him. “Gonna let me do you back?” 

“God,” Louis breathes, still hovering over Harry. “Yeah, if you want to.” 

“Course I want to. Get on your back.” he orders, pushing Louis off and pressing him into the bed. 

 

********

 

Harry wakes up again to soft sunlight coming through the window and his head on Louis’ chest. He lifts his head to look at the clock, shining a bright red eight-seventeen. He reaches across Louis and the rest of the bed, grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand before settling back against Louis’ chest and calling his mum. 

It rings three times before Grace’s chipper voice comes through the phone. “Hi dad!” 

“Hi, G. How was your night?” He can hear the faint beeping of the heart rate monitor in the background. “Nana stayed with you the whole night?” 

“Mhm. She’s getting breakfast now, but she thought you’d call so she left her phone with me. How was  _ your  _ night? Are you at home?” 

“Um. No, I’m not at home.” Harry says softly, carefully getting up and trying desperately not to wake Louis up from his peaceful sleep. “I slept at Doctor Tomlinson’s, actually.” 

“Really?” She asks. Harry shuts the door to the en suite halfway and leans against the sink. “Well… how’d that go?” 

“We’re not gonna talk about that, Gracie. It was fine. We had dinner and we came back to his. He’s got a nice flat and a nice car.” 

Grace sighs. “He’s great, isn’t he?” 

Harry laughs softly. “Yeah, he is.” 

“Oh, Nana’s back with breakfast. Can we call you back later? Or, actually, you call  _ us  _ back when you’re going to be coming back.” With that, Grace hangs up. 

Harry sighs, turning around to look at himself in the mirror. He splashes some water on his face, desperately wishing he had a toothbrush to use before going back out into the bedroom and climbing in next to Louis. “Quite the song and dance y’had there,” Louis murmurs, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him closer without even opening his eyes. 

Harry laughs, kissing Louis’ shoulder. “Had to call Grace. Then just splashed water on my face. Don’t have a toothbrush, so sorry in advance.” 

“I probably have some extra ones somewhere. We can look around later.” Louis replies, finally opening his eyes and looking down at Harry. “You look pretty in the morning.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Do you have to go into work?” 

“Eventually, yeah. Have a surgery at two. Little people still need heart surgeries even if your little person doesn’t.” 

“I’m gonna, um…” 

“You can shower here. And we can throw your clothes in the wash. Or you can find some of mine, I’m sure I have something. And I’ll bring you to get your car. Or I can make Niall get it, and you could ride in with me. Or I’ll just bring you home, if you’re getting sick of me.” 

“Never getting sick of you, you know that.” Harry tells him, sucking lightly on Louis’ collarbone. “That sounds perfect. Coming in with you. I wanna raid your closet and see what Doctor Louis Tomlinson wears on his days off.” 

Harry gets up again, wandering to the en suite bathroom and lingering in the doorway, looking at Louis. “Are you going to join me, or just lay there and wait?” 

“I can wait for you. I’m gonna let you get clean on your own.” Louis tells him, sitting up straighter in bed. “I’ll see if I can find anything for you to wear.” 

“No!” Harry says quickly, leaning in the doorframe. “I mean, I want to look. Pick something out.” 

Louis laughs. “Okay, then I’ll find you a toothbrush and get you a towel, how’s that sound?” 

“Great. But don’t peek when you come into the bathroom,” Harry winks, shutting the door behind him. He figures out how the shower works rather easily, getting under the warm stream. Louis has two different bottles of shampoo but only one kind of body wash. Harry picks the shampoo that smells most like what Louis’ hair smelled like last night. And when he lathers up in the body wash, he gets a big whiff of Louis and he loves it endlessly. 

The door nudges open a few moments later. “I brought you a towel, Styles. And I’ve gotta look around in here for a toothbrush, so if that’s alright with you.” 

“You’ve seen me naked. I’m perfectly fine with it.” Harry replies, sticking his head out the door. 

Louis shuffles around in some of the vanity drawers, looking for an extra toothbrush. Harry watches him, Louis wearing only sweatpants and clearly freeballing it in them and he really just  _ wants  _ him again. “Aha! Toothbrush. I knew there had to be one laying around here. I don’t have many overnights here, as you can tell,” Louis murmurs, setting it on the counter. “Um. Brush is here, toothpaste is in the cabinet. I’m gonna go grab the mail, but I left a pot on making coffee. I figure we’ve gotta wake up somehow.” 

“Okay.” Harry says softly. “Have fun. Put some underwear on if you’re going outside.” 

Louis smiles at him. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

Harry’s left alone in the bathroom again. He finishes up, dries off a bit, then brushes his teeth using the brush and paste Louis left out for him. He wraps a towel around his waist and heads into Louis’ room again, beginning to shuffle through the closet for something to wear. The front door slams shut a few moments later, Louis calling out that he’s back as he comes up the stairs. 

Harry turns to look at him. Louis’ wearing the same pair of sweats and this time a sweatshirt. “You’re still freeballing. I told you to put underwear on before you went outside.” 

Louis shrugs, kissing Harry’s cheek. “I’m going to shower now. Have fun picking an outfit.” 

Harry does just that. He pulls a few different tee shirts of Louis’, things that Harry’s never been able to see Louis wear because they’ve hardly seen each other outside dates and the hospital. “Oh, my god.” Harry murmurs to himself, pulling a footie jersey from one of the drawers. He turns it around, gasping when Louis’ last name is printed on it. 

The shower turns off much sooner than Harry expected it to. He throws on the tee shirt and the same tight jeans he wore on the date last night. Louis comes out, still wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Harry standing there in front of the closet. 

“Where’d you find that?” 

“I didn’t know you used to play footie!” Harry exclaims, looking at himself in the mirror. “This is your jersey?” 

“Um, yeah. From when I was, like… still in training, I think. I was even younger than you.” 

“God, you talk like you’re, like, ten years older than me. It’s two years. Such a drama queen. Can I wear this?” 

“Looks better on you than it does on me,” Louis murmurs, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. The tee spreads tight across his shoulders but it fits comfortably, feels like it was meant to go there. “You can wear that if you want to.” 

“I have a sweatshirt that I can throw on over it. But just like the idea of it… saying your name. Like, being yours.” 

 

********

 

Louis and Harry part ways immediately upon entering the hospital so as not to arouse too much suspicion. Louis dives headfirst into his shift, which he’ll be on till around ten at night. He scrubs into the surgery at two on the dot, and is only in for an hour. Immediately after, Louis heads in to check on Grace. 

Grace is asleep and Anne is the one in there with her. “Oh. Where’s Harry gone off to?” 

“Grabbing pizza. I convinced him to go get it, that he wasn’t doing anything good here. Also noticed he came in wearing one of your tee shirts today.” 

“Oh, okay. And, yeah. There… wasn’t anything else.”  _ My last name looks so fucking good sprawled out across his back I want it attached to him forever.  _ “How was Grace last night?” 

“She had some trouble sleeping, but other than that everything was fine. That shirt has your name on the back of it, I noticed. Kinda weird, seeing a name that’s not his own on his back.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s only there temporarily, so.” Louis says awkwardly, trying to count in his head Grace’s heartbeat. 

“What is?” Harry asks, standing in the doorway holding a box of pizza. 

“Oh, nothing.” Louis replies. “Grace looks like she’s doing well. I think we can send her home by the end of this week. Of course, it’s a long road from there, but… things are looking up, and you should be very grateful.”

“Believe me, I am. We all are. Could never thank you enough,” Harry says seriously. “You did a phenomenal job. We were told you were the best and… you went above and beyond.” 

“I just did my job, Harry,” Louis whispers. “I’ll let you spend some time with Grace and your mum. And, I know you’re not keen on leaving her side. Either of you,” he looks briefly to Anne before looking back at Harry, “but I do recommend thinking about going home. Grace is stable, we’re keeping her for observation, but if you ever want to spend a night at home, I think you should.” 

Harry nods curtley. “We will both consider it. Thank you.” 

Louis leaves the room and doesn’t return for some time after that. He makes his rounds, checking on the patient from his earlier surgery and the rest of them. He gets a page just before he’s going into Connor’s room, who he really hasn’t had a one-on-one with in quite a while, and the page is for Grace. 

So, of course, Louis busts ass to get back up to Grace’s room. “Her kidney function has decreased in the last few hours and, obviously, that raises red flags.” the nurse says. 

“Alright. I don’t want to wait, we should get her on medication right away, we want to boost that kidney function.” Louis orders. “Keep a close eye on that. Any idea where her father is?” 

“He went home not too long ago.”

“Okay, I’m going to call him and update him on the situation.” 

Harry picks up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” 

“Grace’s kidney function is decreasing a bit. I know you just went home and I don’t think you have to come back. I just wanted to call and let you know that we’re attempting to better the function and I’m confident that it will increase. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.” 

“I’m–she’s going to be okay?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m still coming back. I have to be there.” 

“That’s understandable.” 

“Okay, good.” 

  
  


Louis finishes the rest of his shift, calls Niall just to tell him that he wouldn’t be at home, and then pulls up a chair to be sat directly across the hall from Grace’s room. Harry’d come back right after Louis called him, and that was hours ago now. Since then, Harry’s fallen asleep in the chair next to Grace’s bed and Grace’s kidney function has returned back to normal. She still isn’t showing any signs of rejection. This was just a blip on the radar. 

He sits in that chair for the whole night. Harry wanders out of the room around four, nudging Louis’ foot and waking him up from the nap he’d apparently fallen into. “What are you still doing here? I thought you were only here until ten last night.” 

Louis groans, sitting up straighter. “I know. I’m not on the clock right now. But I wanted to make sure Grace stayed stable. Has she woken up at all?” 

“No, she’s down for the count. That’s okay, right?” Harry asks, leaning against the wall next to Louis’ chair. 

“That’s perfectly normal. She’s stayed stable this entire time and I think that subpar kidney function was just a blip.” Louis replies. “You’re doing alright?” 

Harry nods. “Hospital chairs still suck, but we’re almost done with them, right?” 

“Definitely. You’re still wearing my shirt,” Louis points out, needlessly, but he couldn’t  _ not _ say something about it. 

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get it back to you eventually. After I wash it and stuff. It’s comfortable. And, honestly, it smells like you.” Harry says lowly. 

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s hip and turns him around, so he can look at his own last name on Harry’s back. “I like it on you. I don’t mind that you’re still wearing it.” 

Harry smiles, sinking down the wall next to him. Louis looks down at him, smiling softly. “What is it?” Harry asks him. 

Louis shrugs, looking away. “Just… thinking, that’s all.”  _ I know it hasn’t been that long but I want my last name attached to you forever and I don’t know how to tell you that without scaring you off.  _

“Thinking, hm?” 

Louis nods. “Yeah, thinking. Just the usual stuff.” 

“You can go home, Louis. You’ve been telling me for months that I should go home, and now it’s finally my turn to tell you that.” Harry says, putting a hand on Louis’ knee. Louis wants it to stay there forever. “Go home, Louis.” 

 

Louis does go home, and he sleeps on the side of the bed that Harry slept in, puts on the shirt that Harry left behind, and has the best sleep he’s ever had. He wakes up around eight, needing to go back into the hospital at nine. He has a text from Harry, a simple  _ thank you  _ that shouldn’t make Louis’ heart pound like it does.

Louis, feeling bold before he gets into the shower, asks when they can have another night like they had. His music fades out for a moment when his phone dings with a text message, and after that Louis rushes his shower just the slightest bit. 

 

**Harry Styles, 8:18:** _ maybe once grace is out of the hospital? we need 2 talk abt things.  _

**Louis, 8:20:** _ that doesn’t sound good. but just tell me when and i’ll find the time! see u today xx  _

 

**FOURTEEN DAYS AFTER.**

 

Harry’s sitting in the front seat of Louis’ car, legs tucked under him, as they’re parked outside Harry’s house. They went and got coffee together, then Louis brought Harry back home and now they’re just sitting here, listening to the playlist that Louis has made on his phone. 

“You said we had to talk, right? D’you wanna do that now, or do you want to wait for the fourth date for that?” 

“We can do it now,” Harry replies. “Just, like, about us and stuff, you know what I mean?” 

Louis nods. “Do you… not want to do this anymore?” 

“No!” Harry says quickly. “Not at all. It’s just… I don’t have it in me to, like, sleep around. I can’t, because I’m twenty-nine and I have a twelve year old daughter. I need to know that you’re… serious about this. About us. I want to keep seeing you, Louis, I want to be with you. And I know it’s early, I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I want to be with you. So I need to know that you’re in this too.” 

“Harry, if you… God.” Louis turns to look at him. “If after that first date we had, where we got off together on your couch, if you had told me that you wanted this to be serious. If you had said that you didn’t want to be with me unless we were being serious, dedicated, committed, in it for the long haul, then I would have told you that I wanted to be with you like that too. I like you, Harry. I knew the second I met you, the second I picked you up for that date, that I wanted to be more than just friends and more than just casual dating; I wanted the whole thing and not because I’m thirty-one and I never thought I’d get tied down to anyone. I wanted the whole thing because you’re beautiful and you’re nice and because I  _ like _ you.” 

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it again. He just doesn’t know how to  _ respond  _ to that. Finally, he says, “okay. Well, that’s good to know.” 

“That’s all you’ve got to say? I just told you that I’ve basically been committed to you since the moment I saw you and you’re going to say that’s good to know?” 

Harry smiles, leaning across the center console to kiss Louis briefly. “It was the same for me. I just wanted to make sure you were in it for the long haul, too.” 

“Can I walk you up to the door?” Louis asks, looking over Harry’s shoulder towards the front door. 

Harry nods. Louis gets out, opening the car door for him and cracking some joke about chivalry on their way up to the door. Just before Louis’ leaning in to kiss him, the front door opens and  _ Grace  _ is standing there. 

“Doctor Tomlinson! Do you know how to play FIFA?” 

“Do I? Of  _ course  _ I do. Do you?” 

“Yeah. Nana says I’m really good at it. Better than her, even. D’you wanna play me?” 

Harry  _ knew  _ that was coming. Louis looks at him, shooting him a questioning smile, and Harry rolls his eyes, his own smile unable to stay off his stupid face. Grace grabs Louis by the hand and drags him into the house behind her. 

While Louis and Grace head into the living room, Harry finds his mum in the kitchen. “Hi, H. How was coffee?” 

“It was good. This is… good.” 

Anne smiles. “Yeah? Is it?” Harry nods, stepping past her to start washing dishes. “He’s in there playing FIFA with your daughter.” 

“I know he is. I’m… this is serious, mum. I never would’ve let any other guy I’ve ever dated walk me to the door, let alone come in and play FIFA with Grace.” Harry says softly, picking up and starting to wash a pot because he needs something to do with his hands; he needs to distract himself. “Is it crazy if I told you that I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked?” 

“Would it be crazy if I told you that I washed the shirt with his last name on it and I could picture you wearing that shirt all the time?” 

“No one ever said I’d even take his last name,” Harry says. From the living room, Grace shouts  _ that’s not fair!  _ and Louis laughs. 

“You would. I know you would and I should be pushing for another Styles baby, but… I’ll get over it.” Anne laughs. “I don’t think you’re crazy, honey. I think you love him.” 

Harry sighs. “This is crazy,” he says, drying his hands off. “This is absolutely insane and you’re supposed to tell me that.” 

Anne shrugs. “Go sit in there with them. I’ll finish up in here and then I’m getting out of your hair.” 

Harry sighs, kissing his mother on the cheek before heading into the living room. Louis only glances at him, but the smile on Louis’ face tells Harry everything he needs to know. Louis and Grace play even after Anne leaves, Harry sitting there and watching the two of them play. Louis clearly lets Grace win. Harry can tell, because Louis slouches back against the couch and stops trying so hard and Grace only starts getting more excited the more she pulls ahead. 

“I won! See? I told you I was really good.” Grace says proudly, smiling. “We could play again, if you want.” 

“It’s actually almost time for bed, Gracie.” Harry tells her. “You wanna head up and start reading? I’ll be up in a bit to say goodnight.” 

Grace looks quickly between her father and Louis before nodding, thanking for Louis for playing (without Harry even having to remind her), and going upstairs. Louis reaches and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him across the sofa. “Grace is right upstairs,” Harry says, pocketing himself between Louis’ thighs anyway. 

“She’s reading. You’re raising a nerd.” 

Harry laughs. “You went through years of med school and passed with flying colors. You’re the best surgeon anyone knows. You’re the nerd, if anyone.” 

Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, laughing. “I suppose you’re right. It’s a great fit, then.” 

“It’s a glorious fit.” Harry says softly. “Couldn’t ask for anything more or anything less.” 

“What were you talking to your mum about?” Louis asks. 

“You.” Harry replies honestly, seeing no point in lying about it because, for one, it’s not that big of a deal; and two, Louis will probably see right through his lie. “She’s very inquisitive. And she likes you. You’re a good doctor.” 

“That’s  _ all  _ she likes about me?” Louis pouts. Harry laughs, kissing him. They kiss slow for a moment, probably for longer than they should, while Louis’ hand finds its way under Harry’s shirt. 

“Have to go say goodnight to Grace,” Harry murmurs, drawing back. “I’ll be right back. There’s wine in the cabinet by the fridge, if you want to pour us both a glass I’d greatly appreciate it. Glasses are in the cabinet to the left of the microwave.” 

Louis smiles at him, nodding. “I’ll get on those, Styles.” 

Harry kisses Louis gently one last time before he goes upstairs, finding Grace in her room reading by the bedside lamp. “You ready for bed, love?” 

Grace shrugs, putting her book down and shimmying down the bed. “Is Louis going to spend the night?” 

“What? No, G. Of course not,” Harry says, probably too quickly. 

“I wouldn’t mind, you know. Maybe he makes good pancakes. And, he makes you happy, dad. Remember, we talked about this?” 

“I do remember, Grace. But I don’t think he’s going to spend the night. It’s… not like that.” he tells her, kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning, love. Holler if you need me, even if you think it’s the stupidest little thing.” 

“God, dad. I’m fine. Please stop worrying so much.” 

Harry’s never going to stop worrying, no matter how many people tell him that he doesn’t have to worry as much as he used to. Grace has a whole new heart in her body and all of her problems are virtually solved, except she lives with the possibility of rejecting that heart at any given time. Harry is probably going to be holding his breath waiting for that to happen for the rest of his goddamn life and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. 

He goes back downstairs to Louis, finding him on the couch with two glasses of wine on the table while he flips through his phone. Louis puts his phone down on the coffee table the second he sees Harry sit down next to him, though, and hands Harry a glass of wine. “Your kitchen is very organized. You should be very proud of it.” 

Harry laughs. “I am, thank you. I pride myself on an organized lifestyle.” 

“How’s Grace?” 

“She’s fine. Wants me to stop worrying, but I don’t think I ever will. No matter how much better she gets and no matter who begs me to relax,” Harry admits. Louis just makes it  _ so fucking easy  _ to talk and admit things. Harry’s lifting weights off his chest left and right. 

“My mum died when I was twenty-four.” Louis blurts suddenly, and Harry was not expecting that at all. “That was… seven years ago, and it still feels like I could pick up the phone and call her. I was just about to start medical training, like the real deal, and then she got sick. Had to convince me not to take a year off school, even though with the marks I ended up getting, I probably could’ve benefitted from a semester off,” he continues, and  _ shit.  _ Speaking of easy to get weights off your chest. 

“Oh, Louis.” Harry whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I’ve got six siblings. Charlotte’s twenty-six now, Fiz is twenty-four. Daisy and Pheebs are… God, they’re twenty. And Ernie and Doris, they’re the babies, they’ve just turned eleven. It’s been a long time. A really long fucking time, and they all had to grow up without their mum around. That was hard for me to fathom, you know? You never think your mum’s not gonna be there when you graduate or when you meet someone new or when you get a new job.” 

“I can’t even begin to imagine. You… how do you, like, live with it?” 

Louis laughs, taking a sip from his wine. “For awhile I didn’t, actually. I really, like, shut down. I was smoking and drinking all the time, not caring about the hangover I’d have when I went to work the next morning. Whenever I was oncall I’d just… chainsmoke until I could hardly breathe anymore because when I was smoking, when I got that relaxed feel going on, for some reason everything seemed to hurt a little bit less. Then, it’s kind of stupid, somehow Niall managed to drag me out… he gave me a  _ Friday Night Lights _ -worthy talk one night and the next morning, I was operating like it was nobody’s business.

It’s hard to imagine Louis like that, at his lowest point with nothing to live for because he lost the person that meant the most to him. “It was tough. It still is, most of the time. Like I said, I just wanna pick up the phone and tell her things. About work and about Niall and about… you.” 

Harry puts a hand on Louis’ thigh. “This is going to sound crazy, and maybe like I’m pitying you, but do you want to spend the night?” 

 

********

 

Harry wakes up the following morning to  _ Louis  _ in his  _ bed.  _ Harry struggles to cope with this realization. He runs his fingers gently down Louis’ spine, kissing his shoulder blades and the tattoos on his upper arms and that kind of grounds him a bit (but also sends him soaring). Louis doesn’t even stir. Harry gets up and finds Louis a tee shirt, boxers, and a pair of sweats. He also gets a toothbrush from the new package in the hall closet and leaves them in a nice pile at the end of the bed with a note that reads: 

_ these are for you!! the shower gets hot, you just have to wait a few minutes. i’ll be downstairs! xxx  _

Then he heads downstairs, where Grace is already sitting at the island eating a bowl of cereal. “I was gonna make breakfast, bug.” Harry says. 

“Louis is still here. You said he wasn’t going to stay,” she says firmly, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“I know. It got late, he decided it was best just to spend the night.” 

“Is that gonna happen now?” Grace asks, watching as Harry gets out the pancake mix. “Like, is Louis going to be here a lot? Not that it’s a problem, I’m just curious.” 

“I don’t know, G. We’ll have to see. This is normally how relationship stuff works.” Harry tells her, and it’s true. Except he has a twelve year old daughter to worry about, one that’s watching his every move and this definitely doesn’t just  _ feel  _ like a normal relationship. “Plus, he’s a surgeon. Weird hours. So it’s not just going to be sleepovers all the time.” 

“Right. But he  _ will  _ be here sometimes, right? I think it’s cool. I… like it, actually.” 

Harry smiles at her. “I like it too.” 

He gets started on breakfast, Grace eating her cereal in silence for awhile before asking, “Mum’s never going to come back, right?” 

Harry sighs, leaning against the counter. They have this conversation every so often, and Harry’s reply always seem to stay the same. He’s tried to shelter Grace from the truth of the life her mother led, but he thinks she knows just about all of it. “I don’t think so, G. Even if she did, I wouldn’t let her see you. At least not right away. She’s… not okay, and I wouldn’t trust her with you even if she came back and said she was clean.” 

“So you’re not in love with her anymore?” 

“No. Haven’t been for a long time.” 

“Are you in love with Louis?” 

“ _ God.”  _ Harry breathes, shaking his head and turning back to the pancakes. “Maybe, I told you that already, didn’t I?” 

Grace shrugs, and Harry laughs as he goes back to plating this round of pancakes. Louis comes downstairs after Harry’s already eaten and he’s put a plate of pancakes in the oven to keep them warm, wearing the sweats Harry put out for him and – not the shirt Harry left. Instead, he’s found his own jersey, which Harry didn’t even think about, and is wearing that. 

“Where’d you find that?” Harry asks. 

“Was on your dresser. Looked ready for you to wear again, so I figured I had to take it back as my own. Where’s Grace?” 

“Living room. Why didn’t you put on the shirt I left out for you?” 

“You snooped around my wardrobe. Why can’t I snoop around yours?” Louis challenges, crowding Harry against the counter and kissing him. Harry kisses him back, of course, he doesn’t think there will ever be a time Harry  _ doesn’t  _ kiss Louis back. There won’t ever be a time where Louis will kiss him and Harry won’t react, it’s just not possible. 

Except. This time Grace is in the living room and Harry’s not too keen on seeing her seeing him like this, so after a moment he starts to nudge Louis off. “Grace. She’s right in the other room.” 

Louis nods. “I know. We should stop now.” 

This time, it’s Harry kissing Louis again, something impulsive and spontaneous and uncontrollable. He backs off after a moment, his senses coming back to him. “I saved some pancakes for you. Do you have to work today?” 

“Oh, you’re a saint. I’m famished.” Louis drones, backing off as well. “And, no, I don’t. Today’s my first genuine day off in a long while. Gonna go home and sleep like I’ve never slept before.”

“Oh.” Harry says simply, putting the plate in front of Louis and turning to grab him a fork and a knife. “So, no plans then? There’s syrup right there.” 

Louis shrugs, digging into the breakfast Harry’s prepared for him. “My sister’s in London, might meet up with her. But other than that… planning on sleeping and binge-watching bad TV. Why so curious?” 

“Just wondering, that’s all. Am I allowed to be curious?” 

Louis smiles at him, still chewing a mouthful of pancake, and shakes his head. “You’re an interesting character, Styles. I’m gonna get out of your hair soon, I promise.” 

“You don’t have to–” 

“Yes, I do. I don’t want to intrude on you anymore than I already have. We agreed that we were both all-in but that doesn’t mean we’ve got to… speed into it. You have Grace to worry about, you can’t thrust her into this lifestyle.” 

God, he’s so caring and cautious. Harry wants to hold him and never let him go. “You’re good. Too good,” Harry tells him.

“You make fantastic pancakes.” 

“Next time we have a sleepover I’ll prepare you a full wakeup. Proper eggs and sausage and everything.” Harry grins. “I’m a bit of a connoisseur in the kitchen.” 

“How will I ever pay you back?” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I’m pretty easy to please. Unlike your stubborn 

arse,” Harry winks, rolling on the balls of his feet while Louis laughs. The sunlight pours into the room at that exact moment.  

 

********

 

**TWENTY-TWO DAYS AFTER.**

 

Louis hasn’t seen Harry since he slept at Harry’s house after their coffee date. He doesn’t feel right about it. After he works a night shift on Friday and knows he’s oncall for Saturday, Louis calls Harry. 

Harry picks up almost immediately. “Hi,” he breathes out. “I was just thinking about you.” 

“Oh, were you?” Louis smiles. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, so. Your ears must’ve been ringing or something.” 

“I suppose they were. What’re you up to?” 

Louis sighs, sitting down on the couch. “Worked a night shift last night, oncall all day today. Wanted to see if you had any plans, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Um, yeah. I don’t have any plans. Just been thinking a lot lately, that’s all. Do you want to meet up? You can buy me lunch somewhere,” Harry replies, sounding like he’s smiling. Louis can almost hear his dimple through the phone. 

He laughs, nodding. “Alright. You name the place and I’ll meet you there, kid.” 

“Actually… I’ll just pick you up, sound good? I’ll drive, you pay.” 

“Sounds good to me, Styles. Text me when you’re here and I’ll come out.” 

“See you in a few.” 

 

Louis sighs shakily, intrigued to find out what it means that Harry’s been  _ thinking a lot  _ since they last saw each other. He gets dressed, skinny jeans and some tee shirt that he hasn’t worn in a long time but he feels Harry would appreciate. Wearing scrubs and lab coats all day every single day have made Louis kind of… forget how he’s supposed to dress casually. 

While he’s sitting on his couch, waiting impatiently for Harry to show up outside, the doorbell rings. Louis gets up to answer it, but the door opens on its own and Harry is welcoming himself into the flat. 

“What’re you doing? I thought you were going to text me.” Louis says, approaching him. 

“Sorry, I know. I just. I left Grace alone at the house for the first time in her entire life, and the first time with her new heart, and I didn’t really want to go out to lunch in public anymore. And you said that you haven’t stopped thinking about me and I don’t know if you meant that emotionally or sexually but I’m intrigued to find out which, and either way we should talk about it.” Harry rambles, sliding his shoes off at the door. “You’re not stopping me from rambling. Why not?” 

“I… wasn’t aware that I was supposed to? I kind of like listening to you talk, so I mean… Do you want to sit down? In all honesty, you said that you were thinking a lot and it’s got me a bit worried.” 

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’m driving myself absolutely crazy going back and forth.” Harry says, sitting down on the couch right next to Louis. 

“Back and forth between what?” Louis asks softly. 

“Thinking that this is okay and then thinking that it’s… not normal.” Harry replies. “I haven’t felt like this about somebody for a long, long time, and it didn’t help that my sexuality crisis didn’t hit until I was in my twenties – but still.” He looks down at his hands, picking at the remains of black nail polish that Louis’ never seen him wear before but  _ really  _ wants to see him keep wearing. “I keep convincing myself that feeling like this is normal and then feeling like it’s… completely crazy. Because I’d dive headfirst into you, Louis, without thinking twice about the practicality or the consequence but I stop myself because it’s just… I don’t even know  _ why  _ I stop myself.” 

Louis has an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t like the way this conversation is going. His words start to hurt as they crawl from his throat. “You’re stopping yourself because you have Grace, and I know that. That’s why I held off for so long. That’s why I’m okay with waiting or stopping or going all-in. I haven’t felt this way about someone either, H.” 

“I just don’t know what to do about it. You drive me absolutely mad and I can’t stop thinking about you and I just want to be with you all the fucking time. This is different for me, real. I let you have all of me on the first date and I let you come in and play FIFA with Grace and I let you spend the night at mine and I  _ never  _ did that with any other guy I went on a date with since I’ve had Grace. And I’m sorry if that scares you, or whatever, but it’s the truth.” 

“ _ Jesus.  _ None of that is going to scare me off. I told you I was in love with you ages ago and that’s still true. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I think I felt it with you, and I haven’t let go of that feeling because it’s so…  _ good  _ to feel.” 

Harry leans forward and kisses him then, and Louis can feel a tear that’s either his own or Harry’s, he can’t really tell, and he just… he wants this. “You don’t mind if we blow off lunch, do you?” Harry asks, breath fanning across Louis’ lips. 

Louis shakes his head, kissing him again before replying, “staying in my bed is free, believe it or not. Last I remember I was going to be the one buying lunch, so.”

 

Harry’s straddling Louis’ hips, wearing nothing but his boxers, pointing out different tattoos and listening to Louis explain them. “It is what it is?” 

“ _ C’est ce que c’est _ . It is what it is. That one’s sad, and I’m not sad right now. But now I always have it with me, and… everything really is just… what it is.” Louis explains, rather shittily. Harry traces his fingertips over the tattoo. 

“The compass? It points to home.” 

“That’s where I want to go. No matter where I am, the compass always points home.” 

Harry sits up for a moment, pointing to the big ship on his left arm. “I’ve got the boat.” he grins cheekily. “So we can collaborate on that journey.” 

“I’d want nothing more,” Louis replies softly, running his thumb over the tiger on Harry’s left thigh. “These look so pretty on you. Y’don’t look like you’re the dad of a twelve year old girl.” 

“No?” Harry laughs. “What do I look like then?” 

“I reckon more of a hipster, maybe. All these tattoos and your nail polish and your hair.” 

Harry recoils his hands at the mention of the nail polish. “You noticed that?” 

Louis grabs one of his hands back, inspecting the chipped polish closely. “Just noticed it today. I like it on you, it suits you. Did you do it or did Grace?” 

“I tell other people it was my twelve year old daughter, but really, it was me,” Harry admits, voice tentative and soft. “I like it.” 

“I’m glad you like it. I like it, too.” 

“I like  _ this _ ,” Harry says suddenly, and somewhat randomly. “Being here. Talking with you.” 

“I do too,” Louis whispers. 

“But as much as I like it, we should probably stop ending up in bed together every time. We’re compatible in here, but we should see if we’re compatible, like, out there.” 

Louis laughs. “You’re adorable. I’m pretty positive we’re compatible everywhere. Throw us in the zombie apocalypse and I’m sure we’d make it together.” 

“You’re who I’d want to be with during the zombie apocalypse. And not because I like you. But because you’re a surgeon and you have lots of medical knowledge up there that will come in handy at some point. If I got bit, I’d only trust you to amputate my arm to stop the infection from spreading,” Harry rambles, his dimple popping out. 

“I want to live inside your dimples.” Louis says, dumbly, on an exhale. Harry laughs at him. 

“I love you.” Harry replies, and it kind of stuns them both. They’ve said the word before, mentioned the idea of being  _ in love  _ with each other, but neither has actually said those three words aloud. Louis has thought it a thousand times in his head since he met Harry, has dreamt of saying it, but he never imagine how good it would actually sound coming from Harry’s lips. It sounds like what he’d hear the stars whisper in the deep voids of space.  _ I love you.  _

“I love you too.” Louis replies, the words not feeling foreign on his tongue even in the slightest. They feel right, they feel sure, they feel like the  _ home _ that Louis’ compass tattoo is pointing to. 

Harry sighs, placing a hand over Louis’ heart, which is nearly beating out of his chest. “Not to be sappy or dramatic or anything, but I want this for a long time. In the bedroom and out of it. For as long as it’ll last.” 

_ I’m going to marry you one day,  _ Louis thinks to himself, and says after they go again and Harry falls asleep next to him. Harry just looks so peaceful, so content, so beautiful, that Louis can’t keep that thought to himself. Harry’s asleep, so it doesn’t even really matter, all that matters is that it’s the truth and Louis’ now spoken it into existence. He’d ask Harry to marry him as soon as he wakes up, take him down the courthouse and have someone sign the documents immediately. Have a big wedding next summer with all their friends and family and not caring that some people think it’s too soon. Louis feels like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. This is the kind of love his mom prayed and prayed that he’d find. This is the kind of love they put in movies, the kind of movies Nicholas Sparks wrote all his dumb books about, the kind of love people write about in songs. 

He’d marry Harry tomorrow. He would have married Harry the second he saw him in that exam room. He would’ve proposed to Harry at Zayn’s wedding, told him he loved him out loud the second he finished Grace’s heart transplant. Louis’ never been one for fate, but this feels a hell of a lot like it. 

Shortly after Louis’ confession, Harry’s phone starts ringing and that’s what wakes him up. “Hi, Grace… yeah, love. Went out for lunch. I’m on my way back now… You’re feeling alright? Okay, well. Like I said, on my way home now. I’ll be there soon,” he says, phone pressed to his ear as he gets up and starts to pull his jeans back on, mouthing a  _ sorry  _ at Louis. “We can talk about what we wanna do for dinner later, maybe get a movie if you’re up to it. I’ll see you in a bit, love.” 

“You’re leaving me?” Louis frowns, sitting cross legged on the bed. 

“Unfortunately. I left Grace alone at home this afternoon and should get back anyways.” 

“I hope you don’t just treat this like a booty call, Styles. I feel things for you, very big and very real things,” Louis says jokingly. 

Harry leans down and kisses him, still shirtless. “It’s far more than just a booty call, Tomlinson. Next time I see you it’s a real date, okay? We’re not just sleeping together.” he says, pulling his shirt back on. 

“I’m offended that it was just  _ sleeping together _ . That was  _ making love,  _ Harold.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“I love you,” Louis says, not thinking about it. The words just come out and they still feel helplessly right. “Let me know how Grace is doing, yeah? And, um, when you’re free.” 

Harry smiles at him. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll do that.” 

Harry leaves Louis alone in his bed, leaving with a kiss that Louis hopes he feels for a long fucking time. 

 

**TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS AFTER.**

 

Louis wakes up in Harry’s bed, even though they said that they wouldn’t do that anymore. He’s really not complaining about it, like, at all. They went out to dinner and then went for a walk and then came back to Harry’s. Harry snuck Louis in after he put Grace to sleep, because somehow that’s easier than Harry facing his own daughter. Louis reminds himself to talk to Harry about that at some point in the near future. He doesn’t want to sneak around like they’re teenagers. 

He traces his fingertips up the veins in Harry’s arm, past the small nails and the song lyrics and the black heart, over Harry’s collarbones and to his lips, before kissing the center of Harry’s chest. He thinks briefly about what it would be like to wake up like this every single day, and he thinks that would be pretty overwhelming. But Louis also wants it with everything he has in him. 

Quietly, Louis gets out of bed and pulls the clothes on that he was wearing last night. He hunts around for a notepad of some sorts, settling for post-its that Harry has on the dresser for whatever goddamn reason.  _ I left, snuck myself out b/c i didn’t want to wake you!!! harry styles i am in love with you!!!!  _

The note feels a little bold to write; thinking I love you is one thing. Saying it is another. But writing it… writing the words immoralizes them, leaves them to the elements and they can be easily destroyed. Louis doesn’t  _ want  _ those words destroyed, not ever. But he writes them anyway, leaving the note stuck to Harry’s bare chest before heading quietly downstairs, looking for where he might have left his keys last night when Harry brought him in. 

Instead of finding his keys, he finds Grace sitting on the kitchen counter, beside the Keurig coffee machine, which is making a cup of coffee as she sits in waiting. “Good morning,” she says, swinging her legs back and forth. 

“ _ Jesus,”  _ Louis hisses, hand over his heart. “If your dad asks, you didn’t see me here, alright?” 

“I saw your car was here. And I figured you had to go to the hospital, so I started a cup of coffee for you. It’s in one of the travel mugs dad never uses, so he won’t miss it.” Grace says, jumping from one topic to another like it’s not seven in the fucking morning and like she didn’t just catch him trying to sneak out. “How come you’re leaving so early?” 

“You said it yourself, I have to get to work. And I have to go home beforehand, too. Have you seen my keys?” 

Grace nods toward the kitchen table while she puts the lid on the coffee. “I won’t tell dad I saw you. Even though I am kind of offended that he didn’t tell me that you were coming. I liked playing FIFA.”

Louis nods slowly, taking the mug from her. “I appreciate you keeping my secret.” 

Grace hums, turning the Keurig off. “Are you gonna, like, marry my dad?” 

Louis chokes on his coffee, shocked by what Grace has said. “What? I, uh, I don’t know. It’s kind of soon to know.” 

“Nah, I think you know. And I think he’d like it. I would. Y’should probably get to work now, right? Like I said, I won’t tell him that I saw you.” 

By the time Louis gets in the car, he kind of feels like his head is spinning and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Years ago, he’d call his mum when in this big of a crisis, at this divisive of a crossroads. But he can’t, so instead he calls Lottie. 

“Think you can stop by the hospital today? Lunch is on me.” 

 

********

 

“You ran into his twelve year old daughter in the kitchen. So what?” Lottie shrugs, pushing her salad around in her bowl. 

“I’ve never had this problem with any other guys I’ve dated, Lots. None of them have ever had kids.  _ I’ve _ never had kids. I just… don’t know how to go about it.” 

“Louis, you’re thirty-one years old and I think that if mum was still here, you would’ve been crying about this into her shoulder.” Lottie says critically, and Louis shrugs. She’s probably right. Louis’ mum knew him the best out of anyone in Louis’ life, he definitely would have ranted (cried) to her about this a hundred times. 

“You’re not wrong. She would’ve known what to do.” 

Lottie sighs, resting her chin on her hand. “You know that you want to be with him long-term. And you’ve told him that, pretty well, I think, judging by what you’ve told me just now. You and him seem to be on the same page. Don’t let the fact that he has a daughter muck it all up. Because that’s actually really cool, you know. You’ve always wanted kids and she likes you and  _ he  _ likes you.” 

“You always were the more intelligent one out of all of us,” Louis sighs. “It’s just hard, you know?” 

“I don’t know, really. I’ve been engaged to Tommy for like, ever, and we never had that problem. You’re getting a plus one for my wedding, by the way. So, he better be your one, because I won’t sit through another wedding where Niall is your plus one. And, while we’re on the topic, on call isn’t going to be good enough. You’ve got to get the day  _ off.”  _

“Already have it off, Lots. And… I want him to be my plus one. So I’m going to try to make sure that he’s the one that I bring.” 

“Well, you should ask him. Wedding’s coming up fast. You need to get tuxedos and stuff. And, honestly, Harry seems like the kind of guy who would want to color coordinate outfits.” 

Louis laughs, but can’t even deny it. Harry  _ would  _ want to color coordinate in some way, especially for something as big as a wedding. Lottie finishes her salad, which Louis paid for, without talking any more about Harry. They talk about her wedding, about her dress and Tommy’s bachelor party, which Louis is expected to take a major part in even though he’s told Lottie a dozen times that he doesn’t really party like that anymore. Lottie keeps on telling him that the motivation to party like Louis used to doesn’t just disappear. 

Louis tries to argue against the fact, say that he’s a professional, he’s a grown man who doesn’t party hard like that anymore. But he also knows that, really, he’ll get plastered at the bachelor party and won’t necessarily regret it. 

Louis’ lunch break ends quickly, so he sends his sister off without really feeling a weight lifted off his chest like he’d wished he would feel. He still wants to dive right into Harry without thinking much about it, but unfortunately, it’s not going to work like that. 

 

He finishes his shift around nine at night, and goes home for a dinner of mixed leftovers from the previous week. He looks at tuxedos for Lottie’s wedding, thinks about Lottie’s wedding, wonders if he’ll actually ask Harry to be his plus one. The wedding invitation has been hanging on Louis’ fridge for months, with a plus one reminder on it that still seems daunting even with him being so close to Harry now. He thinks about going to his sister’s wedding with Harry and he can  _ see _ it, more than Louis can see himself going with anyone else. 

He decides that next time he sees Harry, he’s going to ask him.

 

********

 

**THIRTY-ONE DAYS AFTER.**

 

“You’re going to kill me,” Louis says, sitting down at the table across from Harry. “First because I’m late, and then because I’m about to make a proposition that is painfully last minute.” 

Harry arches his eyebrows. “I am? Should I be worried?” 

“No, I mean. Not really, I don’t think so. I hope not. Did you order?” 

“Drinks, yes. Food, no. What’s your proposition?” Harry asks, hoping Louis can’t tell that this has made him extremely nervous. 

“My oldest sister, Lottie, I’ve mentioned her before, I think. She’s getting married. I, uh, I have a plus one. I’d like it very much if you were that plus one. And I know you have Grace and I’m asking you this literally a week before the wedding but–”

“I’d love to come,” Harry rushes out, all in one breath. His mind and his heart are finally in sync on this whole Louis situation, and they both  _ want  _ this. “I don’t care that it’s last minute. Well, I do, but not nearly as much as it should. Where’s she getting married?” 

“Some fancy place in central London. It’s inside, but she’s super excited for it. I’ve got the bachelor party next Friday and then the wedding’s on Saturday. And she’s putting us up in hotels for the night, which is cool.” 

“I’d have to have my mum come watch Grace, but that’s almost never an issue. I’d love to come with you,” Harry smiles. “I can’t believe you waited this long to ask me.” 

“Yeah, well. I’ve always been a bit of a procrastinator.” Louis shrugs, watching the waiter place two glasses of wine in front of them. 

“I’m glad you asked. I love weddings. I am a bit offended she didn’t hire me as her photographer, I haven’t booked a gig since Grace got out of the hospital.” Harry admits, taking a sip from his glass. “What color is your tie?” 

Louis laughs, eyes bright and fond and beautiful. “I knew you’d ask that.” 

 

********

 

**THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS AFTER.**

 

Louis wakes up to his alarm clock, shrill and loud and annoying. Tommy’s bachelor party kicked Louis’ ass, in the truest sense of the phrase. He  _ knew  _ there was a reason he’d stopped partying, and it’s because it kicks his ass. He ponders this over the sound of his pounding headache while he turns the damn clock off, before barely making it to the shower. 

Towards the end of his shower routine, his phone starts ringing, which makes Louis put a little pep in his step to call whoever it is back. It was Harry, he discovers after getting out and wrapping a towel around his waist. “Hi, love,” he greets, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

“I was calling to make sure you were up. You had a fun night last night, judging by what I can tell.” Harry muses. 

“God, did I text you or something?” 

“Texted me, called me, Facetimed me. All of the above. It was kind of endearing, actually. Like knowing that I’m the one you think about when you’re drunk,” Harry admits, and Louis kind of feels like he can see Harry’s dimple even though the phone. 

“Wow, isn’t that romantic?” Louis teases. “I’m awake, thank you very much, and yes, it was fun. I’ll be dropping by to pick you up in like a half hour? It’s already almost noon and Lots wanted me there around then, so… Y’don’t have to wear your tux yet. I know I’m not.” 

Harry hums. “Sounds good. I’ll get dressed wherever and whenever you do.” 

“Sounds good, Styles.” Louis says, still smiling largely and very glad that Harry can’t see him. “I’ll text you when I’m outside?” 

 

Harry comes out almost immediately after Louis sends the text, like he was standing at the front window and looking out and waiting for Louis to show up. He has a dry cleaning bag draped over one arm and a duffle bag in his other hand. Louis gets out upon seeing that he’s carrying things, to open the trunk and the passenger side door for him. 

At the trunk, Harry presses Louis against the car after he’s closed it and kisses him, smiling into it when Louis makes a surprised little noise. “We should get going,” Louis murmurs. “We can’t keep snogging in the middle of your driveway.” 

Harry grins, nodding. “Right. Save the snogging for the wedding.” 

Harry controls the songs on the way to the venue through the aux cord, playing a very unpredictable mix of Fleetwood Mac and Taylor Swift and Cage the Elephant. Louis comments on this unpredictable mix, and Harry laughs and says there’s a lot about him that Louis doesn’t know. And Louis knows that this is true, but he has the intention of getting to know all of Harry’s ins and outs in no time. He tucks the music preference into the bright colored  _ HARRY FOLDER _ in his mind and in his heart. 

Louis finds a spot in the parking garage across the street and they gather their stuff before walking over to the hotel. “I’m part of the Tomlinson-Napolitano party, checking into my room and… the wedding party, I suppose,” Louis tells the receptionist. 

The woman nods, typing something on her computer for a moment before looking back at Louis and grabbing two room keys. “A room for two. Tenth floor, room 1010.” she smiles. “Enjoy the wedding.” 

“Thank you, love.” he smiles warmly back at her, turning to Harry. “Ready to head up?” 

Harry nods. “Wanna see our fancy room.” 

In the elevator, Harry rushes to press the 10th floor button before Louis kisses him, unable to help himself. He just wants to be on Harry all the time and now they have each other, with no limits, for the next twenty-four hours and Louis has a strong feeling that he’s going to become addicted to that feeling. 

The elevator doors open, and Harry shoves Louis off, thinking that someone else is getting on. But when Louis glances up at the numbers, he sees the bright red 10, and they’re on their floor. “Let’s put our shit down and then go find Lots. I’m sure she has shit she needs me for. I’ve got to be ready for pictures at… two.” 

“Should probably put your tux on now, then,” Harry says, stopping in front of room 1010 while Louis puts the key in. 

“You just want to watch me get dressed.” 

“I’ll put mine on, too, then we’re even.” Harry replies. Louis smiles. “See? It’s a good deal.”

“It most definitely is.” Louis nods, holding the door open for him. 

The get ready together, out in the open. Louis gets distracted halfway through tying his tie while watching Harry pull on his pants, which leads Harry to come over and tie it for him. He’s teasing, must know he is, because he’s standing in front of Louis, shirtless and tying his tie for him. “There. I wasn’t aware you didn’t know how to tie a tie.” Harry says, kissing Louis gently. “We should hurry up and get down there, probably.” 

“You’re the one holding us up. Walking around shirtless the whole time we’re in here. That’s the only reason I couldn’t tie my tie.” Louis reasons, smiling. “I’m fully ready, by the way. You’re the one who isn’t.” 

Harry laughs. “Fair enough. I’ll finish getting ready right now. I can meet you downstairs, since you probably shouldn’t wait. You’re the one who has to go be in the pictures.” 

“Okay, I’ll meet you down there, then.” Louis nods. “Hopefully you can tie your own tie and won’t need me to help.” 

Louis grabs his phone and heads downstairs, finding Dan in the lobby with Daisy and Phoebe. “Long time no see,” Daisy grins at him, pulling Louis in for a hug. “You got the day off?” 

“Of course. Had to, it’s my little sister’s wedding.” Louis replies. “You two girls look lovely.” 

“Glad to see you’re all dressed up for the occasion as well.” Phoebe teases. “Did you bring your plus one? Lottie wouldn’t shut up about it.” 

“Yeah, he’s upstairs getting ready. His name’s Harry and I would appreciate it if you would all be  _ normal  _ when he comes down here. Don’t… make a big deal about it, alright?” Louis begs, even though it’s kind of a lost cause. His family always makes a big deal out of just about everything, especially any boys that he brought home. 

Daisy, Phoebe, and Dan all laugh. Louis rolls his eyes at them, but lets them have their moment. It’s really not that big of a deal, he’s not  _ actually  _ as bothered about it as he says he is, even though he’ll never admit that aloud. 

Louis is ushered into photographs with his entire family the second Lottie comes into the lobby, donning the dress that she meticulously picked out. She looks beautiful, she’s smiling and laughing and is having the time of her fucking life and Louis just wishes that their mother was here to see this. 

Harry comes down while Louis and his sisters are all posing for pictures together. He makes a face, makes Louis laugh, and makes the photographer roll his eyes. “Louis, I need you to look at the camera, it’ll make this whole process go a hell of a lot faster,” he scolds. 

Lottie nudges Louis’ shoulder. “You’re holding all of us up, good God. Stop looking at him for two seconds, would you?” 

“I’m not looking at him. Now you’re the one not looking at the camera, Lottie.” 

Their photo-taking process lasts about another half hour before they’re finally dismissed and it’s time to start getting ready for the ceremony. Lottie grabs Louis by the arm and pulls him into the back room where she’s getting ready. “Are you nervous?” he asks, sitting on the arm of the couch. 

“A little bit. But we’re both ready for this.” Lottie sighs happily, looking at herself in the mirror. “When are you going to introduce us all to Harry?” 

“Once you’re all in the same place. Would you worry about your own wedding and your own man?” Louis groans, watching Lottie’s friend make adjustments to her makeup. “I’m gonna go find my seats—” 

“No, wait.” Lottie says, grabbing Louis’ wrist before he walks away. “I want you to walk me down the aisle, Louis.”

“Lots, what? Mark’s here for that — and even Dan if you don’t want Mark to do it. Why’re you changing your mind about that now, love?” This has come out of  _ nowhere,  _ Lottie’s never even hinted at Louis being the one to walk her down the aisle, he always figured it would be her father walking her down. 

Lottie shakes her head. “No, I… I already talked to both of them about it. I want it to be you, Lou. Mark’s my dad, obviously, but he was never really there and for the longest time it was just us. Dan’s more of a dad to me than Mark ever will be, but you’re the one person that was there for me…” she pauses, choking up a bit. “As much as mum was. She’s not here, so I want it to be you.” 

Louis can feel the tears coming to his own eyes as Lottie pulls him into a hug. “Of course I’ll walk you, Lots. I’d be honored to.” 

Lottie sniffs. “Okay, great. Go wait outside, you’re making me cry.” 

Louis laughs, nodding. When he heads out of the room, Harry is leaning against the wall, waiting. “Hey. So, slight change in plans.” Louis says, leaning against the wall next to him. “I’m walking Lots down the aisle, but once I do that I can come sit next to you. I can walk out there with you, but then I’ll have to leave you and you’ll have to fend for yourself until I come back.” 

“Oh. Well, alright. I think I can hold my own.” Harry smiles. “I’ll walk out there myself, don’t worry about it.”

Louis smiles, leaning forward and kissing him. Harry chases after him once he pulls away, pulling him back in for a longer kiss. “Don’t trip,” Harry whispers, and then he walks away. 

Lottie comes out a few minutes later, all ready to walk down the aisle and get married.  _ Our Song  _ by Ron Pope plays while they walk down the aisle, and Lottie laughs when Louis quietly comments on how corny it is. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the officiant asks, looking between Lottie and Louis. 

“I do.” Louis replies, smile on his face. He kisses Lottie on the cheek once the officiant dismisses him, and then he finds his way to his seat beside Harry. 

“Ran into Dan just a moment ago, had to introduce myself, but it went just fine, in case you’re wondering.” Harry whispers, leaning in closer to Louis. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, good for you. I’m glad,” Louis replies.

 

Lottie gets married, and Louis almost cries. Lottie has her first dance, and again, Louis almost cries. Tommy delivers a speech, thanks the entire Tomlinson-Deakin clan and and shouts Louis out for a bachelor party well done (apparently, Louis was the life of that party), and extends a special thank you to Jay, and then Louis cries. 

Harry rubs his back, comforting, and doesn’t say anything about it. They pick off of each other’s plates when they eat, Harry drinks three glasses of champagne and notes that he doesn’t plan on stopping there, and Louis says that he doesn’t plan on stopping either. 

 

When Lottie finally takes a step back and watches her wedding happen, she’s standing beside Fizzy, who happens to be on another glass of wine herself. “Think you should remember this DJs name,” Fizzy notes. 

“Yeah?” Lottie muses. 

Fizzy nods towards where Louis and Harry have taken residency on the dance floor, Harry’s arse pressed against Louis’ front, grinding when Nelly mentions that he doesn’t see anything wrong with a little bump and grind. “They look like they do that a lot.” 

Lottie rolls her eyes. “God, that’s disgusting. Don’t think about that, please.” 

“Mum would march right out there and smack him, probably. Louis, I mean. Tell him to make his dance moves less pelvic or he won’t be allowed to dance at all. Scold him for making a scene at your wedding,” Fizzy smiles, shaking her head. “He’s happy, though.” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

Once the song over, Harry whispers something in Louis’ ear and Louis looks over his shoulder towards Lottie and Fizzy. Then they’re walking over. “You can pretend that you weren’t watching all you want, but I know you were, pervs.” Louis tells them. “Should probably introduce you properly not, yeah?” 

Harry steps in front of Louis and extends his hand to Fizzy first, a smile on his face. “I’m Harry. M’dating your brother.” 

“The infamous Harry,” Fiz muses, making Louis roll his eyes. “I’m Félicité. Or Fizzy, that’s what everyone calls me. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“And you’re Lottie. You look beautiful, congratulations.” Harry tells her, shaking Lottie’s hand next. “Any idea where Daisy and Phoebe are? They’re the only ones I have yet to check off my introductory list.” 

“Um, Pheebs is probably dancing with some family friend, and Daisy is probably at the dessert table,” Lottie laughs, looking around. 

“Alright, we’re going to find them. Have fun, Lots.” Louis tells them, putting a hand on the small of Harry’s back and leading him away. “You’re over eager to meet my family. I can’t believe how quickly you want to get into this.” 

“I love big families. If you didn’t pull me away, I would’ve asked Lottie when she planned on having kids.” Harry tells him, the biggest fucking smile on his face and Louis is going to  _ die  _ right here, right now, at his sister’s wedding. 

They find Daisy and Phoebe, right where Lottie said they would be, and Harry introduces himself and makes them both laugh and makes them both give Louis  _ looks,  _ looks that say  _ this is good.  _ Louis thinks that is really good, it’s  _ really  _ good. Louis watches Harry’s eyes light up once they’ve sat back down at the table and the fucking  _ Cupid Shuffle  _ of all the songs. 

Louis refuses to get up and dance, but Harry does it, and Daisy comes right up alongside him. Louis can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face while Harry dances to the song. The smile on Harry’s face makes Louis feels like he’s looking right at the sun and doesn’t want to look away even though he probably should. 

Once that song is over, they slow it down and Harry doesn’t move from the dance floor. “I’m not dancing with your twenty year old sister for this song.” 

It’s  _ Coming Home  _ by Leon Bridges, and Louis can’t resist the look on Harry’s face. “Fine.” he agrees, albeit begrudgingly. 

Harry smiles at him, wrapping both of his arms around Louis’ neck even though the height doesn’t really work for it, but Louis doesn’t comment on it (nor does he mind). “I love Leon Bridges,” Harry says, beginning to hum softly along to the song. 

Louis adds that to the Harry folder stored in his body. Another artist added to the mix of songs Harry Styles listens to. “He’s a great singer.” Louis replies. “This is a great song.” 

Harry nods, his distracted feet stepping on Louis’ and making him laugh. “Shit, sorry. Giraffe legs, you know.” 

Louis smiles at him. “I love your legs.” Harry rolls his eyes in response. “I’m serious. Just wait, when we get back to our room later I’ll prove it to you.” 

“Is that a promise?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. Of  _ course  _ that’s a promise, a promise Louis would keep every single day for the rest of his life. “Are you drunk?” 

Louis shrugs. “Not really.” 

The song comes to an end, and Harry disappears on the premise that he’s going to the bathroom. Louis grabs another two glasses of champagne for them and makes his way to the table, but on his way spots Harry crouched down on the ground, talking to a small child — one of Lottie’s friend’s kids. His hair is falling over his shoulders and he’s smiling so widely and making this little girl laugh her head off about whatever he’s saying to her.

“He’s great with… people, in general.” Lottie says, standing beside Louis. “He looks a bit like a prince.” 

“Shouldn’t you be, like, at your wedding? Not staring at my boyfriend?” Louis asks teasingly, not even looking over at her, still watching Harry talk to the little girl. 

“So he  _ is  _ your boyfriend? Like, officially? You asked him?” Lottie asks. “You’re in love with him still, yeah?” 

Louis nods. “Of course. And, no, I haven’t  _ asked  _ him, but I think… it feels kind of unspoken. All of this feels, like, right. It’s all been relatively unspoken and we’re on the same page about everything.” 

“He loves kids.” Lottie points out, needlessly. That’s obvious, it’s a given, he loves kids and Harry doesn’t hesitate to make that known. “You should ask him, Louis. Make it official.” 

Louis will, he’ll say the words out loud and they’ll get even more real and they’ll get even more dedicated and it will hurt even more if Louis ever has to let this go. Harry finally stands up and comes back over to Louis and Lottie, a smile on his face. 

“Nice trip to the bathroom?” Louis asks. 

Harry looks over his shoulder. “She was telling me how tired she was and that her mum wanted her to go to bed but she’s having too much fun at the wedding. Your wedding’s a hit, Lottie, even for the little ones.” 

Lottie smiles. “That’s good to know. I’m gonna go find Tommy, I feel like I’ve hardly even seen him. Have fun, enjoy that hotel room.” 

 

********

 

“Don’t fucking stop— Louis —  _ Fuck,”  _

Harry arched closer to Louis, metal cuffs clacking against the headboard. Louis watched him strain against it. “Can’t believe you fucking brought  _ cuffs.  _ What thirty-year-old father owns handcuffs.” 

“One who wants his boyfriend to fuck him,” Harry groans. “ _Fucking_ hell.” 

“I love that this wedding ended with you cuffed to the bed,” Louis moans, pistoning his hips faster. 

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head, fingers clenching around the headboard. “Shut up. Fuck  _ me.”  _

 

********

 

Louis wakes up in the hotel room to an empty bed. He’s still naked, really feeling what he drank last night in his head. His head replays visions of Harry in bed last night, and videos of Harry at the wedding, and just  _ Harry  _ in general. The balcony doors are open, letting a cool September breeze roll in and coat the hotel room. Harry’s standing out there, shirtless, leaning against the railing with the phone to his ear. 

“It was really great, actually… yeah, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a wedding, and I’m just glad he was the one that I went with…  _ No,  _ Grace, I did not get any ideas for one of my own… How was your night with Nana?...  _ Divergent,  _ hm? I’ve heard that’s a good one… I am  _ too  _ hip with the current movies, Grace… Yeah, I’ll be home later today… Love you too, Grace.” 

Harry turns around finally, exhaling and making eye contact with Louis where he’s laying on the bed. “Did I wake you up?” 

Louis shakes his head. “No, love, not at all. Still kinda nice outside, huh?” 

Harry shrugs. “It’s alright. I like it. I can close the doors if you’re cold.” 

“It’s fine. Hangover this morning?” 

“Not at all.” Harry shakes his head and sits down on the bed. “I… had fun last night. I’m glad I was your last minute plus-one.” 

Louis smiles, sitting up. “I’m gonna jump in the shower, wait here for me?” 

Harry sprawls across the bed, that same big, mischievous grin on his face from last night. “I’ll be waiting for you to get back. Maybe break the cuffs out again,” he says, with an over-exaggerated wink. 

Louis had kind of hoped that his shower would rid him of the hangover he’s definitely beginning to feel, but it does nothing. He wraps a towel around his waist and heads back out into the bedroom. 

“You’re hungover, aren’t you?” Harry asks, unable to hide the smile on his face. “You probably should’ve cut yourself off at some point. Even though seeing you all happy and cute and rambly was a true treat.” 

“‘m not cute.” Louis mumbles, crouching by his duffle bag and beginning to look for clothes. He gives Harry a very distracting look at his chest and legs and ankles and Harry needs a moment to refocus. “D’you have advil?” 

“Advil and water. Ran into Fizzy in the lobby this morning, she had some.” 

“Ugh, gimme,” Louis groans, looking over his shoulder at Harry. 

Harry frowns. “Say please.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “ _ Please.  _ Pretty, pretty please. Or else I won’t ever tell you all about how much I love your legs ever again.” 

Harry laughs. Louis’ towel slips when he reaches for the little pills Harry’s extending to him, and he pretends he doesn’t notice the way Harry  _ watches  _ his lower body and the little bits of skin that keep on ending up exposed. “My fuckin’ hero,” Louis murmurs, swallowing the pills dry. 

“Prince Charming, I’d guess.” 

“Oh, please. You’re not nearly as charming as you make yourself out to be.” 

“So you’re just easy, then?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

 

********

 

**FORTY-SEVEN DAYS AFTER.**

 

Harry cuts his hair. He didn’t think it would be that big of a deal; he and Grace were growing it out together and then donated it — so they both have cut their hair. But the second Harry opens the door, Louis’ jaw drops.

“Your  _ hair,”  _ he breathes out, reaching up and touching a piece behind Harry’s ear. “It’s all gone.” 

“Grace and I were planning on donating ours. I could’ve sworn I mentioned that to you.” 

“Was I inebriated? Or in a post-coital haze? Because if so, neither of them count.” Louis says snarkily, still staring in awe. 

“Would you just come in the damn house?” Harry rolls his eyes, opening the door wider in an attempt to coax Louis inside. “Grace is coming home from her friend’s house right now, they had a little study session or whatever.” 

“Dinner smells great,” Louis comments, shrugging off his coat while still eyeing Harry’s head. “It looks so different.” 

“Do… do you not like it?” Harry asks, hand flying up to his own head. Not like it  _ matters;  _ he doesn’t really care how anyone likes his hair, but Harry’s a bit desperate for Louis’ approval — a consequence of being arse over tits in love with him — and he wants to know what Louis thinks. 

“No, baby. No, I don’t not like it. I love it. It looks good. It’s just so different.” Louis explains, stumbling over his words a little bit. “What’re we eating tonight? This is my last supper, of sorts. I’ve got to work the night shift tonight.” 

“Lasagne.” Harry replies, turning to look at the oven. “It’s nearly done, we can eat as soon as Grace gets home. Are you nervous?” 

“To eat dinner with your daughter? Whose heart I have literally held in my hands? Can’t say I am, love.” Louis laughs softly, winding a finger in Harry’s shorter hair. “Just wish I could spend the night.” 

“Stop by tomorrow morning,” Harry blurts. “I’ll make you a smashing breakfast and you can sleep off the night while I’m working tomorrow afternoon.” 

“About that, actually. I do have to go home after the shift, just a comfort thing and Niall’s out of town and all. But I, uh, I brought you this.” Louis digs into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a shiny gold key. “It’s a key to my flat. Once you send Grace off to school tomorrow morning you can let yourself in and make me breakfast there, I’ll be home around eight.” 

“You’re giving me. A key to your flat?” Harry stutters, looking at it in shock. He should take it, he knows, but his body isn’t letting him  _ move  _ at the moment. 

Louis glances down at the key in his own palm. “Yeah. Unless you don’t want it. I know it’s kind of soon and that’s kind of a big thing, but—” 

“No!” Harry exclaims, finally taking the key from Louis’ hand. “I want it. I’ll stop by and make you breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

Louis, Harry, and Grace have a very delicious and fun dinner. Louis makes Grace laugh and makes Harry laugh and doesn’t stop short with the compliments on Harry’s dinner. Before he leaves, Louis thanks Harry profusely for his ‘last supper’ and kisses Harry nicely in the doorway, and then he goes to work. 

Grace is still sitting at the dinner table when Harry comes back from sending Louis off. “Any homework tonight, G?” 

Grace shakes her head. “No, I did it already. Dinner was great, dad.” 

“It was just like any other dinner,” Harry replies, opening the dishwasher. 

“Except Louis was here.” Grace notes. “I like him.” 

Harry smiles to himself, still not looking at her. “I know, I do too.” 

Harry likes Louis, Louis fits nicely into both his and Grace’s lives, Louis wants to be there in both of their lives. Louis tries and Louis is nice and Louis is great with kids — and  _ Grace _ — and Harry just… wants dinners like this all the time. 

“Dad, how soon is too soon to marry someone?” Grace asks suddenly, looking at her father expectantly. “Just… hypothetically.” 

Harry looks at her, a little bit taken aback and a little bit confused. “Um. I think… there’s not really a such thing as a too soon. You just… know when you know.” 

“Do you know? With Louis, I mean.” 

Harry exhales heavily, leaning against the counter. “Not sure yet, love. It’s been such a short amount of time—” 

“Dad, you  _ just  _ said that there was no such thing as too soon. I think that you know. And I think that he knows, too.” 

“When did you get so smart?” Harry asks, smiling. Grace just shrugs, then she gets up and leaves the dinner table. Harry lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head in shock at the things his daughter has said to him. Harry hates that sometimes other people know him better than he knows himself. 

Harry shoots Louis one final text, wishing him good luck in his shift tonight and saying he hopes there’s no big traumas, and then he lets himself fall into an evening at home with his daughter. 

 

********

 

“Oh, breakfast smells fantastic,” Louis groans, shutting the front door behind him. “Could smell it before I even came into the flat.” 

Harry smiles, turning around to glance at him. “Full English workup here. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, the works.” 

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, kissing the side of his neck. “Ugh, you’re the best. Wouldn’t have wanted to give the key to my flat to anyone else. The only thing that would be better is if you were naked.” 

Harry laughs, leaning into him as he plates a few pancakes. “Can’t make that fantasy come true today, sorry about that, angel. Here.” He presses the plate into Louis’ hands and watches him push himself up on the counter to eat. “Do you always eat on the counter like that?” 

Louis shakes his head. “Only when I want to be close to my chef,” he replies cheekily, a big grin on his face. “This is delicious. You’re a great cook.” 

“That’s years of honing my craft for my daughter talking. I’ve had a lot of practice.” Harry replies. “Bacon?”

Louis nods eagerly, holding his plate out for Harry to put some on. “Are you tired?” Harry asks. 

“Exhausted. Had an old guy come in, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a pulmonary embolism. He made it, but that was rough. There was a car accident, but they didn’t really need me. I was just in A&E when they brought the kids in, it was pretty gnarly.” 

“Gnarly? Is that the official doctor-term?” Harry laughs. 

“It’s better than saying everyone’s shit was totally fucked.” Louis smiles, holding his plate out for another pancake and forkful of eggs. “Thanks for coming and making me breakfast. I’m going to finish this plate and then knock the fuck out. You have work today?” 

Harry nods. “Just some dumb portrait shoot for a ballerina.” 

“You should come back afterwards. Spend some time with me.” Louis tells him. “I’ll probably still be asleep, but feel free to keep me company. And, obviously, I don’t know what you have going on with Grace, it’s a Friday I’m sure you want to be with her—” 

“Grace is having her first sleepover with her new heart. I’d quite like to spend the night with someone, too, because I’m gonna be really stressed the whole night. You… take my mind off of it.” 

“I’d love to have you spend the night,” Louis tells him. “Thank you again for making me breakfast, but I’m about go to pass out in my bed for the next eight hours at the minimum. You wanna come with me? Until you have to go, obviously.” 

Harry does join Louis in bed, Louis falls asleep with his head on Harry’s shoulder, where Harry lets him stay until Harry needs to get up and go to the photoshoot. He floats through it, but he still does his job and he gets it done and he does it well. Then he goes back to Louis’ flat, lets himself in using the  _ key  _ that  _ Louis  _ gave him, and helps himself upstairs. 

Louis is still out cold, so Harry joins him in the bed again. “Mhm.” Louis groans, rolling over into Harry. “You’re back. Time s’it?” 

“Just after four.” Harry whispers, running his fingers through Louis’ hair. 

“I’ve got to get up.” Louis says, sitting up. “D’you want to have a night in, or do you want to go out?” 

“I kind of want a night in, I think. You’re still tired and I don’t really feel like going out somewhere, I should be close to home just in case Grace needs me.” 

 

So, because it’s a night in, they fuck. In Louis’ bed, and the shower, and Louis sucks Harry off while he’s cooking dinner in the kitchen. Then Harry makes them both wash up again before dinner, because it’s unsanitary to not. Louis argues that the act of fucking is more unsanitary than anything but they still do it, and Harry kisses him. 

Later, they’re sitting on the couch watching reruns of  _ Parenthood  _ on some channel Louis didn’t even know he got on his TV. Ruby is apologizing for being a bitch at game night with Sarah and Hank. “Lou?” Harry whispers suddenly, sitting up straighter. “You’re amazing, you know?” 

“That sounds like how breakup speeches start,” Louis says, turning the volume on the TV down. 

“It’s not that… I know we’re in for the long haul. It’s just… for the longest time I felt like I was missing pieces of myself. They were in Lauren and in Grace and anyone that I used to date or talk to. And then I… I met you and it felt like I found them all again. I found them in you, and I never thought that would ever happen, but it did.” 

“Harry, what’re you on about?” Louis laughs softly, looking over at him. 

“I just… I love you, that’s all. And I want this. Dinner with my daughter and you and nights in like this and just… everything. Anything.” Harry continues, not really know what he’s saying — let alone why he’s saying it — but continuing to speak regardless. 

“While we’re giving out these loaded declarations,” Louis says slowly. “I never really thought that I’d find anyone. From when I was young I knew that I wanted to be a surgeon. Then I became a pediatric  _ heart  _ surgeon, and it swept me away and I never… I never had time for stuff like this. But then I met you and I just. I knew, H. I knew that you were going to be different, and that if something was ever going to work out, I wanted it to be with you.” 

“That is loaded,” Harry whispers, making Louis laugh. “But… I knew that I wanted it to be with you too.”

With a sigh, Louis turns the TV back up again. The beginnings of  _ Best That I Can  _ by Vance Joy are fading into the show while Drew confesses he feels the need to be the major money maker and Adam talks to Amber about the Luncheonette. Harry whispers how much he loves this song, then all of a sudden he finds himself getting up and extending his hand to Louis. 

Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head, refusing at first. But then Harry begs  _ please  _ and bats his eyelashes and pouts, and Louis gets up, allowing Harry to wrap his arms around his waist. “Makes me feel like I’m at my sister’s wedding again. Except we’re horribly sober. And this time, I’m the only one looking at you.” 

“You were the only one looking at me at the wedding, too. What’re you talking about?” 

Louis laughs softly. “Those people couldn’t take their eyes off of you. But I was the one dancing with you, that’s all that matters.” 

Harry grins, closing the distance between us and kissing him deeply. Louis plays with the hair at Harry’s nape while they kiss, and Harry suddenly wants to be endlessly closer as Vance Joy sings about how he’s sick of leaving things half done and things half said. “All this time.” Harry murmurs, “all this time you could dance and y’kept it from me.” 

“I thought I held my own at Lottie’s. I was drunk then. I can work wonders when I’m sober, Styles. I’ve gotta keep you on your toes.” Louis replies, grinning. “D’you want to keep watching this, or head off to bed?” 

“You’ve got another round in you, old man?” Harry asks teasingly, kissing Louis’ neck. 

“We could just lay there and make out, don’t necessarily have to go again.” Louis tells him. “Lets get up there.” 

They lay in bed, and make out, as Louis suggested. When Harry’s phone starts ringing, Louis doesn’t move from the spot on Harry’s neck where it feels like he’s working on a nasty love bite “Hi, G,” Harry breathes out, attempting to keep his voice steady, even though Louis’ really getting him worked up at this point. It’s  _ ridiculous.  _

“Hi, Dad. I was just calling to say goodnight. We’re about to watch  _ The Hunger Games  _ and I wanted to say goodnight before we started.” Grace explains, sounding extremely chipper. “So, goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Grace.” Harry smiles, trying to wriggle out of Louis’ grip. 

“Goodnight Grace!” Louis calls, making Harry shove him playfully. 

“Oh. You’re having a sleepover, too, then?” Grace asks, giggling. “Bye, Dad.” 

Then she hangs up. Louis repositions himself on top of Harry, going right back to work at his neck. “How’s she doing?” Louis asks, lips hovering over the hinge of Harry’s jaw. 

Harry starts to ramble about how Grace shouldn’t have heard them, and Louis puts a finger to his lips to shush him. In response, Harry takes that finger into his mouth and refuses to let it go, laughing through it. Louis uses the position to tilt Harry’s head to the side and give him  _ another  _ love bite high up on his throat. Harry releases him. “You’ve gotta give that a rest,” he frowns, rubbing a hand over the spot. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Maybe you can just give me some back and we can call it even.” 

“You just wanted me to kiss your neck,” Harry says accusingly. But next thing he knows, he’s toppling them over and kissing Louis’ neck like there’s no tomorrow. Harry justifies this by telling himself that tomorrow (especially a tomorrow with Louis) is never guaranteed. So, carpe fucking diem. 

 

In the morning, Harry wakes Louis up by pressing gentle kisses all across his shoulder and back. “While we’re continuing with this domesticated streak,” Harry says softly, “I have a shitton of work to do at my house. D’you think you’re up to taking a sick day?” 

Louis quickly goes through his mental work file. No major surgeries, no insanely critical patients. “They might kill me, so you have to promise to make it worth my while.” 

“Oh, it’ll be very worth your while. You get to watch me do things like dishes and go through pictures and laundry.” 

Louis rolls over and into Harry, kissing the center of his chest. “Maybe I’ll show you a different kind of  _ doing laundry. _ ” 

Harry laughs, sitting up and looking down at Louis. Louis gets up, and packs a bag while he calls in sick. Harry helps himself to a new tee shirt, the token  _ Tomlinson  _ footie shirt, before Louis comes back in from the bathroom. 

 

Back at his own house, Harry jumps right into those chore activities while Louis sits at the kitchen counter and puts on  _ glasses  _ and reads over physical and electronic patient files. While Harry’s upstairs collecting laundry, the front door opens and Louis looks to see who it is, surprised to see Anne coming through the front door. 

“Oh.” she’s clearly just as surprised to see Louis there as he is to see her. “Is Harry here?” 

“He’s doing chores. And Grace is—” 

“At her friend’s house.” Anne fills in, resting her pocketbook on the dining room table. “What are you doing here, then?” 

“I, um, took the day off.” Louis replies, shutting his laptop. “Could use a day, and I’ve got a hell of a lot of case files to go over and close up, too. And, I… Yeah. Could’ve used the day.” 

Anne nods slowly. Harry comes down the stairs with a laundry basket on his hip, stopping short on his way to the laundry room. “Oh. Mum. I didn’t know you were going to be stopping by. If you want to talk, or something, I’m in the middle of this very urgent laundry matter and y’can join me, if you want to.” 

Anne smiles at him, nods, and then Harry heads into the laundry room. “Wearing that jersey of yours again, hm?” 

Louis shrugs, opening another patient file. “He likes it. And I don’t mind it. And, we’ve like, mentioned that,” he says tentatively. 

_ “Mentioned that?” _ Anne asks, eyebrows pitched toward the sky. 

“Just out of, like, out of context, I guess. You know, like, here and there. The last name thing.” 

“Like, getting  _ married,  _ that kind of last name thing?” 

“I mean, maybe. I guess.” Louis can’t believe he’s having such a poor conversation with the mother of the man he’s  _ in love  _ with. 

Anne pats him on the shoulder as she walks by, and that makes Louis stop. “Wait,” he says. “If we were to, you know. Do that. Like, if I happened to… propose to him somewhere down the line. Would that…” 

“Oh!” Anne’s face lights up, and she stops dead in her tracks to look at him. “You’re a wonderful man, I’m sure, in fact I know. If it’s something that you two are thinking about… of course.” 

“Oh, no. We’re not there, not yet, anyway. But I’ve thought about it. I’d want to, I think I’d like that a lot.” Louis feels like a fucking idiot, feels really fucking mushy, but when it comes to Harry, Louis really gets like that quite often.

 

In the laundry room, Harry’s joined by his mother a few moments later. “Talking to Louis?” he asks, looking over at her. 

“Yeah. He’s rather charming, isn’t he?” 

Harry smiles, closing the washing machine and moving on to emptying the drier. “Yeah, he is. He’s… great.” 

“Have you ever, like, thought about what we talked about in the kitchen that day? His last name and… wearing it all the time.” 

Harry gives her a funny look. “I mean, sometimes. Why do you ask?” 

His mother shrugs, picking up the laundry basket Harry’s filled and leaving the laundry room and leaving Harry in a cloud of confusion. Harry stops in the kitchen, standing beside Louis and running gentle fingers through his hair. “How’s it going over here?” 

Louis shrugs. “Going alright. Have a big surgery tomorrow to prep for, so I’m gonna be reading that guy’s file again to make sure I’m good to go.” 

“Hey, did my mum say anything weird to you?” He asks, pressing his lips to Louis’ head. 

Louis is slow in shaking his head in response to Harry’s question. “No, nothing really out of the norm. D’you need help with the laundry?”

“Nah, I got it. My mum’s here, she’ll help me whether I want her to or not so I should take advantage. Sorry I didn’t know she was coming. So much for your day off together.”

“She’ll leave eventually, won’t she?” Louis looks up at him, smiling. “Go. Spend time with your mum,” he turns his face up for a kiss, which Harry happily indulges him in. 

Louis pinches his arse before Harry walks away, making Harry gasp and even blush a little as he comes into the living room where his mum has already begun folding the laundry. “Did you… did you talk to Louis about what you and I talked about?” 

Anne shrugs. “Not really. That’s between him and I, though. Don’t worry about it too much. What matters is… you love him and he loves you. He took you to his sister’s wedding, where you met his whole family, Haz.” 

“That was amazing,” Harry says softly. “His sister was so nice. And it took just about everything I had in me not to ask her about when she was having babies.” 

“You know… he seems like a big family guy, Louis, I mean. I’m sure whatever you asked him for, he’d give you.” 

“You really think he loves me as much as I love him?” Harry asks softly. 

“Harry, he looks at you like you’re his entire  _ world _ .” Anne replies, smiling widely. “He’s in this, and he acts like it.” 

Harry exhales heavily, nodding his head. “Right. I know.” 

Louis wanders into the living room with a file in one hand and a mug of coffee that he seems to have helped himself to, and sits down next to Harry on the couch. “How’s the laundry going, love?” Louis asks, not even looking up from the file he’s reading. 

“It’s fine. How’s the file-reading going? What is it for?” 

“Guy’s got hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. I know that means nothing to you, so all you’ve got to know is that the walls of his heart are thickening and it’s not working right.” Louis explains, finally looking up. He’s still wearing those damned glasses and Harry thinks they might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “So tomorrow he’s going in for a Septal Myectomy, I’ll be in there for, like, ever trying to open his outflow tract.” 

“Sounds complicated.” 

Louis shrugs. “Nothing compared to a heart transplant, so it’ll be alright.” 

“How’d you know you wanted to be a surgeon, Louis?” Anne asks, sitting back and abandoning her laundry-folding in favor of striking up a conversation with Louis. 

“Biology and stuff was all I was ever good at in school, besides, like, music. But that was always an unrealistic career, so I decided I wanted to be a surgeon. I was good at it, I liked it, and I wanted to help people. Then my mum died just before I became a full-fledged surgeon and that kind of… that became the last push I needed to actually go through with it and become a damn good surgeon.” 

“Your mum?” 

Harry’s eyes go wide, looking over at Louis. “You don’t have to talk about that— mum, you really shouldn’t go around asking people about past traumas—” 

Louis shakes his head, setting the file down on the couch next to him. “It’s fine, H. Really. Yeah. She got sick while I was still in school, I almost took a semester — if not the whole year — off from school. She died at the end of 2016, so it was a long time ago. But she really… reinforced my desire to become a surgeon. I wanted to save people, I didn’t want anyone to have to go through what my family did, and I wanted to help those who  _ did  _ have to go through it.” 

“That’s admirable.” Anne tells him, and Louis shrugs. “It is. You don’t like taking compliments much, do you?”

“No, I love compliments. But it’s not admirable. It’s… what I had to do.” Louis replies, still acting like it’s no big deal that he saves lives every single day. He picks his file up again, continuing to read over it. “This guy’s allergic to latex. Great.” 

“What’s that mean?” Harry asks, finally folding the last piece of laundry and beginning to put everything back into the basket to carry it upstairs. 

“We can’t use latex gloves. We get to break open the special hypoallergenic box that we use once every six months. It’s easier to deal with than having him be allergic to, like, the anesthetic, so I’m not gonna complain.” 

“You don’t do that often. Complain, I mean.” 

“Neither do you, H.” Louis points out in response. Harry shuts up after that. 

 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with Louis and Anne having conversation after conversation, Anne asking him questions one after another like a fucking firing squad. But Louis takes all of them like a champ, even questions that would have sent any other guy (and  _ Lauren,  _ for that matter) running for the hills; questions about his mum and kids and previous relationships. Louis sits and takes all of it, answering each one really fucking well. Harry watches him talk the entire time, listening and hanging on to every word that comes out of his mouth. 

Anne leaves almost an hour later, and she kisses Louis on the cheek when she says goodbye. After she’s left, Harry flops down on the sofa beside Louis, collapsing into his side. “I’m sorry she showed up,” Harry says, looking at the file Louis’ pulled into his lap. “Stop stressing out about this Septal whatever the hell it’s called, you’re gonna do great.” 

Louis sighs, rubbing his chin. “When’s Grace going to be home?” 

“Oh, sometime soon. Around dinner time, probably.” 

Louis nods, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair. “D’you want me to stay or…” 

“We’re just ordering takeaway. Chinese. You… you can stay. I want you to stay. And I’m sure Grace would too.” 

Louis smiles, nodding again. Harry leans up and kisses him gently. “I like having you here. A lot. I meant what I said last night. All of it.” 

“I meant it, too.” Louis whispers. “Let me read this file one more time and then I’ll give you my full-fledged attention. I’ll even help you set the table for dinner.” 

Harry laughs at him. “When we order chinese we eat it from the containers on the sofa. It’s one of the only meals where that’s allowed. We find trashy TV shows and eat takeaway on the sofa.” 

“Harry Styles, I do that exact same thing with my takeaway. Except I eat almost every meal on my couch. By myself unless Niall’s over, which hasn’t happened often ever since he found a woman.” Louis says, somewhat whimsically. “Eating takeaway on the sofa is my  _ specialty.  _ But please let me read this guy’s file one more time, and then I’m all yours.” 

“I’m sure your Septal whatever will go just fine. But, alright.” 

“Septal Myectomy. Please stop calling it a  _ septal whatever  _ before that’s what I go in and tell this man we’re doing when I’m briefing tomorrow morning.” Louis tells him, making Harry laugh. Louis reads over the file one final time, silently speaks his way through the what sounds like the entirety of a Septal Myectomy, before tossing the file and his glasses onto the table and turning into Harry. 

He sighs deeply, pressing his face into Harry’s neck. “I’m stressing out. I never stress out over this shit.”

Harry runs gentle fingernails over Louis’ left arm, kissing his forehead. “You’re good at what you do. I’ll tell you as much as you need to hear that you don’t need to be stressed, but I know it won’t make a difference because you’ll stress anyway. You know this surgery pretty well, from what I’ve heard, and it doesn’t sound like you have anything to worry about.” 

“I appreciate that, love, but I’m going to stress out no matter what.” Louis admits. “You’re rather good at this, you know?” 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Good at what?” 

“Being… supportive. And comforting. You’re really good at it. Makes sense why Grace came out so… alright.” 

“She did come out alright, didn’t she?” Harry smiles. “And, thanks, I guess. I try to be. It’s the mother in me.” 

Louis laughs, his breath fanning across Harry’s neck. “The mother in you, hm?” 

Harry nods, feeling Louis start to mouth around on his neck, planting soft kisses in different spots. They stay like that for awhile, entwined on the couch with Louis kissing on his neck and talking quietly about certain things. The doorbell rings around five, Harry shoving Louis off immediately.   
“You can’t keep sucking on my neck like that anymore. I don’t have hair to cover it up like I used to.” Harry scolds, hand covering the column of his throat, where it feels like Louis spent a lot of time. 

The door opens before he can get to it, Grace rushing through with her duffle bag and crashing into her father in a giant hug. “I missed you.” She says, face pressed into Harry’s shirt. “It was weird not being at home for once. Louis is here, isn’t he? And have you ordered the takeaway yet?” 

Harry smiles, kissing the top of her head. “Not yet, love. The usual?”

Grace nods, already on her way to the living room. While he orders, he hears Grace tell Louis a little bit about her sleepover before starting to ask him questions about the file on the table and then asking to have a Septal Myectomy explained to her in detail. 

Dinner comes and they eat on the couch, Harry pressed close to Louis in a way he usually would never venture into with Grace around, but nobody seems overly affected by it. It feels normal, feels  _ right  _ to Harry. Grace doesn’t eat much of her dinner, but Harry doesn’t think much of it. 

After she’s gone up to her room, Harry spares a glance at Louis. “Are you going to stay the night?” 

“Brought a change of clothes because I knew you’d ask,” Louis admits, smiling. “Do you want me to?” 

“I always want you to.”

 

********

 

Harry wakes up at two in the morning with Louis in the bed next to him to the sound of somebody vomiting. He’s up in a flash, finding Grace slumped against the toilet seat. 

“Oh, baby, what’s the matter?” 

“I just don’t feel good. I thought if I threw up I’d feel better, but I  _ don’t _ .” she whines, looking up at him with tired, pleading eyes. 

Harry pulls her into his chest, flushing the toilet at the same time. “Let’s get you into bed, okay? I’ll get you a glass of water and a cool cloth and a bag or something, sound good? Can you walk?” 

Grace nods, letting Harry help her to her feet and back into her bedroom. When Harry leaves, he hears a  _ psst _ , and looks to see Louis standing there, who he kind of forgot was even here. “H, what’s going on?” 

“Shit. Grace doesn’t feel well. You can go back to sleep, I’ve done this a lot.” Harry tells him, heading down the stairs. 

He fills a cup with ice water and runs a cloth under the tap until it’s cold enough before grabbing a plastic bag and hustling back upstairs to Grace’s room, where he finds — Louis. “What are you doing in here?” 

He’s laying on Grace’s bed, her head pressed against his shoulder. “I wasn’t just gonna go back to bed, H. She’s not rejecting the heart, so you can stop worrying about that. I’m sure it’s just a twenty-four hour thing that’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

“I’ll stay with her, you can go back to bed. You have that big surgery tomorrow, Lou.” Harry whispers, pressing the cloth to Grace’s forehead. “C’mon, Angel, let Louis go.” 

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s arm. “Let me do this, H. She’s already knocked again anyway.” 

Harry stutters, looking at Louis in awe. “You don’t… you don’t have to.” 

Louis tugs him in for a quick kiss. “I can.” 

Harry sighs, sitting at the end of the bed and leaning against the footboard. He’s still looking at Louis in complete awe and admiration and love. He can’t  _ believe  _ Louis’ done this, as if Harry wasn’t in love with him enough already. Now he has to go and be all… heroic and fatherly with Grace and Harry just… Harry’s shocked. “Dad.” Grace murmurs suddenly. “Can y’sing a song? The song, you know?”

Harry lets out another sigh. Louis looks at him, somewhat amused. “Sing us a song, then, H.” 

“ _ Boats and Birds _ , by Gregory and the Hawk, do you know it?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head. So Harry starts singing the soft, sweet song about how he’ll be her sky and lives to let her shine, lives to make her free. Louis said he didn’t know the song, but while Harry sings — his eyes are still on Louis — he sees Louis mouthing the words to the song. 

After he’s done singing, Grace shifts herself off of Louis’ shoulder and turns her back on him, fully asleep again. Louis gets up slowly, quietly, before extending a hand to Harry and pulling him to his feet. Harry kisses him, unable to help himself. 

“I didn’t know you could sing like that, Styles.” Louis murmurs, fingers dancing around the hem of Harry’s shirt. 

“I’ve got to keep you on your toes somehow, Tomlinson. Bedroom?” He asks, and Louis nods eagerly.

 

********

 

**FIFTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER.**

 

Louis has spent the last three days at Harry’s house. He likes it, and he doesn’t mind not going home. Harry makes him laugh and kisses him when Grace is in the room and makes him breakfast and dinner, all things that Louis is vastly not used to. He never eats full, regular meals around his schedule and he never has someone with him at all times and he never has a twelve-year-old girl around to keep him on his toes. He loves this, every single part about it and whenever he talks to Lottie on the phone he finds himself telling her that he wants this  _ forever.  _

Laying in Harry’s bed late one night, Louis props himself up on an elbow, looking down at Harry. “I like having you stay here,” Harry says suddenly.

Louis nods in agreement. “I like staying here.” 

“Do you… this is going to sound insane, but do you think you’d like to do it… more than some of the time? You just gave me the key to your flat so clearly your mind is not in moving out of there but just— you could stay here a lot, too.” Harry says, all in one breath. “I talked to Grace about it and she was so unbelievably supporting and—” 

“You’re rambling. Harry, I think about being here all the fucking time. When I’m at home and when I’m at work and when I’m eating dinner. I think about how much I like being here  _ while  _ I’m here. It  _ sounds  _ like you’re asking me to move in with you and I’m telling you that I’d love to, Harry Styles.”

Saying those words seems to give Louis a headrush. He can hardly fathom how  _ crazy  _ but how  _ right  _ this feels; he doesn’t feel like it’s too fast. He’s gone over it a dozen times in his head, over and over, and thinks of what his mum would tell him, too. Even now, even though she’s gone, Jay’s opinion and advice is the only input Louis is keen on following. He thinks that she’d tell him to dive in, but only if he was sure. And Louis’ so sure it’s maddening. 

They make out again after that, because why wouldn’t they? After that’s worn out (even though, in Louis’ opinion, they could never do too much making out), Harry rests his head on the center of Louis’ chest. “You sing Grace lullabies, will you sing me one too?” Louis asks softly, scratching Harry’s back gently. 

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No. Not right now, anyway. I don’t do that often. Sing, I mean. Lullabies especially.” 

“I didn’t know you could.” 

“I used to do all sorts of musically inclined things,” Harry replies, beginning to move his fingers over Louis’ stomach like he’s — like he’s playing the piano. “Having a kid required a more… practical line of work, though.” 

“You play piano?” 

“I dabbled. It was nothing too out of the ordinary. Just a little bit. All your basic songs. I don’t remember it anymore. I tried to teach Grace, but she must of inherited her mother’s terrible, terrible music genes.” Louis can’t see his face, but it sounds like Harry’s frowning. “I wish she was more musical than she is. But it’s alright, I suppose. Love her regardless, and all that.” 

Louis laughs. “You don’t talk about her often. Grace’s mum, I mean. Not Grace. You talk about her plenty.” 

Harry exhales a heavy breath. Louis thinks for a moment that he’s crossed some line that maybe he shouldn’t have crossed; one that he doesn’t necessarily have the right to cross just yet. “Yeah, Lauren. She had Grace when we were seventeen. But she was never keen on having kids, especially that young. She was always… a really big partier, I guess you could say, and Grace never fit into that. Lauren had a lot of bad habits that, unfortunately, having Grace didn’t break. But I’ve always wanted kids, and I wasn’t just going to turn my back. So Lauren relinquished her parental rights and I got full custody of G. It’s been just her and I ever since.” 

“So you… used to like girls, then?” Louis asks, regretting the question the second it leaves his mouth. But Harry laughs and shrugs, so Louis thinks it’s alright. 

“I don’t really like putting a label on it. Yeah, when I was seventeen I really thought all I could do was like girls. But… I don’t know. I’ve liked other guys. And I like you, so what’s it matter, really?”

“It doesn’t.” Louis says quickly. “But, for what it’s worth, I never liked girls. I knew that wasn’t what did it for me when I was in school.” 

Harry laughs at him again, pressing a kiss to Louis’ chest. “We should get to sleep now, don’t you think? You’ve got work tomorrow and so do I.”

 

Louis doesn’t necessarily sleep soundly. He’s just so excited, so happy, so in love, that sleep doesn’t come easily to him but he doesn’t really care. Morning comes too quickly, Louis knows when he hears Harry’s alarm start singing and feels him get out of bed. He comes back a few minutes later, laying and staring at Louis. Louis can feel him looking, pictures Harry smiling softly with that damn dimple starting to pop out. 

“Staring at people while they sleep might be one of the most creepy things in the 

world,” Louis remarks, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

“Oh. Well. I guess it’s a good thing you’re not sleeping then, hm?” Harry replies, his morning voice deep and raspy and Louis kind of feels like he’s drowning. 

He forces his eyes open, meeting Harry’s tired green ones and smiling even wider (Louis feels like he’s been doing a hell of a lot of smiling lately). His stomach flips a bit when he takes in Harry’s appearance; he’s gone, so, so gone. “I suppose so, Styles.” 

Louis’ eyes fall closed again, like he can’t help it. “Did you mean it?” he asks softly, not opening his eyes again because now he’s scared to see how Harry reacts. 

“I mean, yeah, I probably did.” Harry laughs brushing Louis’ hair off of his forehead. 

“When you asked me to move in with you. You and Grace.”

Harry exhales softly, breath fanning out over Louis’ face. “Yeah, I did. I know that it’s crazy, but all the online blogs say that there’s no such thing as moving too fast. If we’re both equally as… invested, then there’s no reason why you can’t be here more often.” 

Louis laughs, finally sitting up. “You read online blogs to try to decide if you wanted to be with me?” 

“Not if I  _ wanted  _ to be with you so much as  _ how  _ to be with you. You know, with Grace and everything.” 

“Oh, right,” Louis drones. “Of course, the online forums and whatnot. Very knowledgeable.” 

Harry laughs, leaning forward and kissing him gently. “You have to get to work. Will you come back here after?” 

Louis nods. “Won’t be till late, though.” 

“I’ll save some dinner for you, then. Heat it up for you when you get home.” 

_ Home.  _ The thought rings through Louis’ head for his entire day. He hears it amongst the beeping heart rate monitors, he hears it in the silence of the OR and sees it written in the sheets of the oncall bed. He hears it when Zayn tries to talk to him about Liam and their latest coupley thing; because they’ve  _ found  _ their home and Louis could have found his. He doesn’t even tell Zayn that Harry asked Louis to move in with him and Grace. 

His mind is too preoccupied.

 

It’s after eight-thirty when Louis opens the front door to Harry’s house. Harry’s sitting at the kitchen counter, clicking through something on his laptop in the dim light. He looks to the doorway, smiling warmly when he sees Louis. “Hi, love,” Louis breathes, dropping his bag on the nearest dining room chair. 

“Hi, Lou. I saved you some stuffed peppers, I can heat them up for you if you’re hungry,” Harry tells him, already moving toward the fridge. 

“Sounds great, love, I’m starving.” 

“Long day?” Harry asks, glancing over his shoulder while he presses buttons on the microwave. “You can sit at the island, I’ll move all my shit.” 

Louis does what he says, resting his chin on his hand and watching Harry make him dinner. Yeah, this is the  _ home _ he thought about all day. “You really want me to move in here, H?” he asks, against his better judgement. 

Harry hands him the plate and a fork, giving him a funny look right along with it. “I thought we talked about that this morning. Did I make that up?” 

“No, we did. I was just thinking about it today, that’s all.”

“You keep on bringing things like this up and I don’t really know why. We talked about this, how we were all in, long haul.” Harry says slowly, like he’s trying to work it out in his own head before saying anything. “You keep on bringing it up like you’re… waiting for me to change my mind and say  _ oh, you know what, never mind.  _ But I’m not going to do that, so I don’t know what else you want from me.” 

Louis sighs heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t know, H. I just keep on coming back to the fact that you have a twelve-year-old daughter and I stop myself because that’s a  _ big  _ thing.” 

“I’m sorry if that inhibits you from diving in but I have her and she’s not going anywhere. And she likes you, which I’m not surprised by. And  _ I  _ like you. And it shouldn’t matter that anyone thinks we’re going too fast or whatever it is you’re worried about other people saying about us. I think that we’re both grown-ass men and we can do whatever it is we want to do. I’m the one with a daughter to worry about, Louis, not you.” 

“I  _ know  _ that, H.” 

“Then why are you walking around like it’s only your decision to dive in on this? I’ve thought about it, a fucking lot, and I even talk about it with Grace and we’re both  _ fine.  _ We’re both sitting around waiting for you to get your shit together,” Harry says coldly, putting a beer on the counter in front of Louis even though he didn’t ask if Louis wanted one.

Louis takes it anyway. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this, H. And the last guy I was serious with moved in with  _ me,  _ so I’m a bit tough when it comes to giving up my place.” 

That gets a soft laugh out of Harry, at least. Louis thinks he could still cut the tension in here with a knife. “You don’t have to give up your flat. You can keep it, if you really feel like you need a foxhole to retreat to sometimes. But I like this, Louis. I  _ love  _ you, I want you here with us all the time. Whatever you do, it won’t push me away, but I’d like it if you decided to stay.” With that, Harry kisses Louis’ cheek and heads upstairs despite it being a bit early for bed. 

Louis feels like punching himself in the face after that conversation, but he settles for another bottle of beer and finishing the dinner Harry heated up for him. 

 

********

 

**FIFTY-SEVEN DAYS AFTER.**

 

Harry lights a cigarette. It’s something he hasn’t done in  _ years,  _ probably since a time before one of Grace’s major surgeries. But Louis’ got him stressed as fuck, so Harry sits on the back deck in the cool air and lights a cigarette. 

He promptly puts it out when Grace seems to just manifest herself in the doorway. Harry hadn’t even heard her coming. “Sorry,” he apologizes, shaking his head. 

“It’s okay.” Grace says simply, coming and sitting beside him. “But I thought you didn’t have those anymore.” 

“Only when I’m stressed.”

“And sad.” 

“What?” 

“You used to smoke when grandma — mum’s mum — would come. I think you thought I didn’t notice, but I did. You would get sad when she came. Then she stopped coming and you stopped.” 

Harry hadn’t even  _ thought  _ of that, let alone thought that Grace would pick up on it. He looks at his daughter carefully, her eyes wide and knowing, and Harry knows that he’s where she gets that look from. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. A lot of things about your mum get me sad sometimes.” 

“Do you ever not think about her?” Grace asks curiously. 

“Never. Forgetting her feels scary. She was a bit of a bitch in the months leading up to and even after you being born, but I don’t want to forget her.” Harry admits, not feeling like he’s talking to his twelve-year-old daughter. “She’s not the type of person to be easily forgotten. See her in everything, sometimes. In you, especially.” 

“Sometimes you make her sound not-so-bad.” Grace says, and Harry laughs.

“She wasn’t, not all the time, anyway. She just… had different plans, that’s all.”

“Louis is going to stay, right? With us, I mean.” 

“I know what you meant,” Harry says softly. “Yeah, I think he is.” 

“Good. I like the idea of having two dads, so.” Grace nods definitively. 

“H?” Louis calls, voice echoing through the house. “Oh. It’s cold out here, what’re you 

two doing?” 

Grace grins at him, standing up and heading inside without saying a word further. “Are you smoking a cigarette?” Louis asks, sniffing the air dramatically. Harry rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know you smoked.” 

“I don’t. Not all the time, anyway. Only when I'm super stressed. Once in a blue moon." 

Louis sits down next to him on the bench, cuddling up close to his side. “I have my car in your driveway and it’s filled with a bunch of my shit. Could use your help moving it in here, if you’re up for it,” he says, dropping a casual kiss to Harry’s shoulder before standing right back up again. 

Harry can’t hide the look of joy or pure  _ love  _ that shows up on his face when Louis tells him that. He’s ecstatic. “Really?” he asks. 

“Yeah, love. Clothes and my technology and work stuff, mainly. Some help would be greatly appreciated.” Louis extends a hand to Harry, and he takes it. 

They both carry stuff into the house, Louis didn’t bring much, but Harry thinks it’s a start. Harry tells him that they can share the office upstairs, because Harry hardly even uses it as it is, and Louis will need somewhere for all his doctorly shit. Harry leaves him in there to unpack and go through his stuff. 

He makes a cuppa for Louis, because Louis always wants a cuppa. He makes his way back upstairs with the tea, stopping short when he hears Louis talking to Grace in the office. “...you have a lot of stuff.” 

“Well, I would hope so.” 

“You’re going to stay here? For, like, a long time?” Grace asks, sounding genuinely curious and invested. Harry should stop eavesdropping. 

“I plan to. As long as you and your dad will have me, of course,” Louis replies. He’s so fucking good at talking to kids, Harry will never get over it. 

Harry steps in then, making Grace and Louis both look at him with wide eyes. “Here, brought you a cuppa. Though we appreciate your help, Gracie, you’ve got homework to do, I know.” 

Grace sighs, looking between Louis and her father, before dropping the notebook she was holding and leaving the room. Louis laughs, looking up at Harry from where he’s crouched on the floor, unpacking a box. “You have a piano in here,” he nods to the far corner of the room, where the keyboard has sat for  _ years.  _

“I haven’t touched it in years. It probably doesn’t even work anymore. I always wished I’d learned how to play properly.” 

“It’s not very difficult. I can show you, if you want,” Louis offers, taking a sip from his tea while he strides over to the keyboard and turns it on. “C’mere, love.” 

Harry sits next to him on the small bench and spreads his fingers across the keys. “I think this is C. Major or minor, I couldn’t tell you.” Harry admits, laughing. 

“Close.” Louis says. He puts his hand over Harry’s directing his fingers to the right spot. “C minor.” 

He moves Harry fingers to another set of keys. “G minor. And A minor.” Harry glances at him, eyes darting down to Louis’ lips, they’re so close and Harry doesn’t know where Grace is but Harry  _ wants  _ him. 

“Harry,” Louis says softly. Then Harry leans in and presses his mouth against Louis’. He feels a bit more desperate than usual, a bit more invested, a bit more confident. “What’re you doing?” Louis murmurs, breaking away and pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. 

“You’re moving into my house,” Harry says, awestruck and biting his own bottom lip. “I love you, like a lot.” 

“I love you too, H. And I love making out with you, but we shouldn’t do it in your spare room with the door wide open and your twelve-year-old daughter somewhere around.” Louis explains. “You were supposed to be learning piano, not kissing me.” 

“Maybe we’ll try again next time, then. Because we have that, now. Lots of next times because you’re gonna be here all the time.” 

Louis pocket beeps suddenly, his pager going off. “That’s a little bit ironic. I’ve got to go in, Connor’s stats are dropping. We need to get this kid a kidney as soon as possible,” Louis explains, kissing Harry gently. “I’d take the tea you made but it’d probably just end up cold. Or I’ll forget the mug at the hospital and never get it back because I work with kleptomaniacs.” 

“Good luck. Should I wait up for you?” 

Louis shakes his head, grabbing his jacket from the comfy chair by the door. That chair belonged to Lauren’s father; now it has a home in Harry’s spare room/office. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait outrageously long. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, though.” 

With that, Louis’ gone, leaving Harry and Grace alone in the house. Except he’s going to be coming  _ back,  _ Harry’s still struggling to wrap his head around that fact. He and Grace settle in to watch The Voice when it’s on, making popcorn and sitting on the couch to eat and watch it. 

Grace goes up to bed the second it’s over, kissing her father on the cheek and telling him that she’s happy that he’s happy. Harry could cry when she tells him that; but he tries to keep it together. Harry stays sat on the couch, watching the latest medical drama that they’ve started for a little while before he finds himself dozing off a bit, the TV show becoming background noise as he floats in the grey area between asleep and awake. 

Harry doesn’t even hear the front door open, doesn’t know Louis’ even in the room until he feels a kiss being pressed to his forehead and fingers running through his hair. “Mhm. You’re back, love.” Harry hums, turning on his side and fluttering his eyes open, looking right at Louis’ face. Louis’ beautiful, beautiful face. 

“It’s late, baby, you should get up to bed,” Louis whispers, still threading his fingers in Harry’s hair. Harry wants to hear Louis calling him  _ baby  _ over and over again for the rest of his fucking life. 

“Wanted to wait for you,” Harry replies, puckering his lips for a kiss. 

Louis smiles, kissing him softly, and standing up straight. He extends his hands to Harry, which he takes, helping him up. “Let’s go to bed, angel.” 

They head upstairs, still holding hands because Harry feels like he never wants to let go. Harry climbs into bed, still fully dressed in his sweats and tee shirt, while Louis starts getting undressed. He walks around shirtless for longer than Harry feels like he can handle. He’s just wearing sweatpants that fall low on his hips while he putters in and out of the bedroom, leaving to brush his teeth and coming back with a couple files and a notepad. 

“What’ve you got that for?” Harry asks, feeling sleepier by the minute. 

Louis climbs into bed next to him, sitting cross-legged and opening the file. “Connor’s getting a kidney. I have to find him a donor.” 

“Right now?” 

Louis shrugs. “I’m not tired yet. Won’t hurt to look through and see which one of these are best for the job.” 

“Are they… alive?” 

“Some of them, I think. Others might be deceased donor organs.” Louis replies. “I can go somewhere else if this light is going to bother you,” he suggests, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and pushing them on his nose.

“No, I want you to stay. I like watching you work,” Harry admits, moving to rest his head on Louis’ thigh. 

Harry reads the files as Louis does, even though he’s probably not really supposed to do that, but Louis doesn’t really seem care about it. Louis finishes all of the files, goes back to one, then leaves that one on top when he sets them on the nightstand. “That the one?” Harry asks. 

Louis nods. “We’ll get it in him tomorrow.” 

“Dead or alive?” 

“Alive, fortunately for both of them.” Louis tells him, taking his glasses off. He pulls the duvet back and lays down facing Harry. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Harry whispers. “And even though it’s kind of fucked up, I’m glad that you were Grace’s surgeon. We wouldn’t have met otherwise.” 

“I like to think we would have,” Louis admits, cheeks flushing just the faintest pink. Harry wants to kiss him until they both run out of air, and even that will never be enough time. “Somehow, someway.” 

“You believe in fate? Think the Universe puts us here and decides where we go?” 

“Somewhat. But I also think that we can control our own. And I would’ve seen you around at the hospital at some point, and I would’ve wanted you. So I would’ve approached.” 

“You do know how to get what you want.” Harry tells him. It’s true; Louis knows what he wants and how to get it. It’s how he ended up securing Grace’s heart when she started crashing. It’s how he persuaded Harry to give  _ them  _ a try. It’s how he does everything, probably, and honestly? Harry finds it admirable. He knows what he wants and how to get it. 

“Yeah, I like to think I do,” Louis replies, biting his bottom lip like he  _ knows  _ Harry’s staring at his mouth. 

“You wound up getting me, so you must be doing something right,” Harry tells him, leaning forward and kissing him gently. “We should go to sleep. All this talk about how we feel and how we’d meet is making me horny and we shouldn’t get involved in that right now.” 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever known,” Louis murmurs, leaning forward and kissing him warmly. 

“Strange?” Harry gasps, eyes widening as he draws back. “I take slight offense to that, Louis Tomlinson.” 

“But in a good way. You wear nail polish and you only eat takeaway meals on your sofa and talking about fate and the future gets you going. You’re always yourself, that’s all.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then the bedroom door creaks open, Grace’s silhouette there in the doorway. Harry feels Louis budge away quickly. “G, what’s up?” 

“I had another dream about mum, I just wanted to let you know about it.” Grace says, coming and sitting at the end of the bed without asking if it’s okay. Harry sits up, leaning closer to her and kind of forgetting about Louis for a moment. “You and her were at, like, a lake or something. And you were playing the guitar and she was laughing and she looked so  _ pretty,  _ and then all of a sudden she was gone. And I was just, like, watching you guys.” 

“That was it?” Harry asks, squinting at her in the dark of the room. 

“Um, yeah, pretty much. It just felt… really heavy, you know? And you were really happy while she was there and then once she was gone you were really sad. Then the sun started, like, rising and setting really rapidly — like the days were passing — and then you started to get happier. And then I woke up. It felt too weird to wait to not tell you right away.” 

Harry exhales heavily, nodding. “I have dreams like that sometimes too, love.” 

“I just wish I got to meet her, you know?” Grace says, sounding a bit choked up. 

The bed dips suddenly, Louis getting up and leaving. Harry completely forgot he was there at all. He stops before leaving the bedroom, putting a hand on Grace’s shoulder tenderly and kissing Harry’s forehead. Harry watches the door for a few moments even after he’s left, before turning back to look at Grace. 

“She doesn’t deserve to meet you,” Harry says softly. “She was great sometimes, but other times she wasn’t. It’s been eleven years since I last saw her, G. I know that she doesn’t deserve to know who you’re growing up to be.” 

“Why didn’t she want to be my mum?” She sniffles. “I just don’t understand.” 

“I wish I knew, Gracie. If I knew I would tell you, my love. But she doesn’t deserve to know you, even if you may want to. I’m so sorry you had to grow up without her, but I wouldn’t trade our life for the world.” 

Grace falls into Harry, burying her face in his neck. The bedroom door nudges open again, Louis coming back in with a mug of something in his hands. “Here, Grace. It’s hot chocolate, my mum used to make it for me when I was upset.” 

Grace sits up straight, looking up at Louis with her eyes teary and wide. “Your mum sounds like she knows what she’s doing,” she croaks, taking the mug from Louis’ hands. 

“Yeah, she did,” Louis smiles sadly. 

“Did?” Grace questions. Louis’ never told Grace about his mum; she’s the one person close to Harry that doesn’t know Louis’ tragic story about his mother. Harry would stop her from prodding and stop him from answering, but even in the dim light of the moon coming through the window, Harry can see how soft and welcoming Louis’ expression is as he sits back down on the bed. 

“Lost her when I was twenty-four. I know you didn’t  _ lose  _ your mum like that, but it might feel like it you did, and I know how that feels. The dreams aren’t always nice like that, are they?” 

Grace shakes her head, taking a small sip from the hot chocolate. “I kept on having this one dream that my mum was sitting on my shoulder, like that stupid angel-devil thing. And she’d keep on giving me advice, but it always ended up being the  _ wrong  _ advice every single time I followed it. Which wasn’t like her at all, to give wrong advice. But I followed it every time, and it only served to fuck me over every time. Sorry for that— I probably shouldn’t curse in front of you like that.” 

“It’s fitting. So you kept having that one dream?” Grace asks. 

Harry watches the both of them talk, watches Grace drink her hot chocolate and watches Louis ask he speaks to her, listens to the questions she asks and how he answers them. He’s good at talking to her, even though he cursed (but it’s not like she hasn’t heard it before). Harry’s said it before and he’ll say it again — he’ll talk about it to whoever will listen — it’s like Louis  _ fits  _ in their lives. It’s a completely seamless fit, Harry feels Louis filling in the gaps. 

“You okay to go back to sleep, G?” Harry asks suddenly, rubbing her back. 

Grace nods, handing him the empty hot chocolate mug. “Thank you, dad. And Louis. I’m glad you were here… and I’m really sorry about your mum. She sounds like she was great.” 

“She was.” Louis smiles, stifling a yawn in the crook of his shoulder as Grace finally leaves the bedroom again. “Let’s get to sleep, love, I’m fucking knackered.” 

“We can talk about what you did in the morning.” Harry says softly, pulling him in by the chin for a gentle kiss. “I love you… a lot.” 

“I love you a lot, too.” Louis replies. 

Harry falls asleep with his head on Louis’ chest, and wakes up to Louis pressed to his back. Harry turns to face him, pressing soft kisses to Louis’ throat and neck and collarbones until he stirs. 

“Thank you for talking to Grace like that. I don’t think you know how much that meant to me. How much it meant to her.” Harry whispers. “Even though you said  _ fuck  _ right to my twelve-year-old daughter’s face.” 

Louis laughs softly. “I–” he cuts off, clearing his throat. “It meant a lot to me, too.” 

His voice is still raspy, sleep overpowering it. “I’ve got to get to work soon. Join me for a shower?” 

Harry nods without thinking about it. He’d never enjoyed mutual showers before Louis; they were always unpleasant and impractical, but with Louis, it’s nowhere near either of those things. Nothing is what Harry anticipated when it comes to Louis. In fact, things are  _ better  _ than what he anticipated. He feels like he’s living in a dream world, except it’s real life, and he gets to keep Louis for as long as the universe will allow. 

Harry hopes the universe lets him keep Louis for a long fucking time. 

 

********

 

**SIXTY DAYS AFTER.**

 

It slips out of Louis’ mouth while they’re sitting on the couch, late one Saturday night, watching  _ The Walking Dead,  _ of all the shows. It’s not a romantic show, it’s not a romantic moment to say something so massive, something he’d only thought or whispered while Harry was asleep. 

He says, “I’m going to marry you one day.” And Harry freezes. Louis can feel both of their heart rates pick up. 

Harry looks up at him, eyes wide. “What?” 

“Shit,” Louis says on an exhale, Harry’s response hitting him like a punch to the gut.  _ You should’ve shut up, you shouldn’t have said it _ . 

“You mean that?” Harry asks, voice gentle. 

“I… yeah, H. I mean it. Not now, not tomorrow. Well, I  _ would  _ do it now or tomorrow, but… shit. One day, I’d like that. A lot.” 

“You do? You want… even with Grace?” 

“I’m so fucking in love with you it’s insane.” Louis admits, shaking his head and trying to avoid eye contact. Harry’s gaze is burning holes in him. Louis feels like he’s floating too close to a black hole and is on the verge of burning up. “I never saw myself doing anything like this, but now I need it — want it — and I want it all with you.” 

“I’m gonna marry you one day. Shit, I hope you’re asleep. But it’s true,” Harry says, voice mocking but Louis can hear how he’s choking up. 

It takes a moment for Louis’ brain to register what Harry’s said to him; those are his own words being spoken back to him. “You were awake? When I said that to you, you heard me? And you  _ remembered  _ it?” Louis asks, full of disbelief. 

Harry smiles up at him, eyes shiny with tears but still bright, bold, beautiful. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t really  _ that _ asleep. For the longest time I thought I dreamed it, but now that you’ve said this, I don’t think I did.” 

“You didn’t. I thought you were asleep.” Louis tells him, shaking his head. He can’t believe Harry heard him; Louis should be so fucking embarrassed by the fact that Harry heard that sappy love declaration. But he’s not, because it was true. It was true then and it’s true now. Louis would marry Harry tomorrow. Louis would marry Harry whenever Harry said that he was ready to get married. Louis would marry him in a church or town hall or in a big, destination wedding with all their friends and family. It doesn’t matter when and it doesn’t matter where; all that matters is that Louis  _ has  _ him and gets to keep him forever. 

Harry presses up and kisses him, mouth warm and inviting and everything Louis wants to have for the rest of time. Harry kisses him like he’s desperate for it. Louis feels like they’re both on the same page of the same book; they both want this forever. Louis tightens his hand in Harry’s hair, making him gasp. That’s all it takes for Harry to let Louis take over. He told Louis once that he likes making out. He likes beings snogged so thoroughly that he forgets his own name, and Louis likes snogging Harry so thoroughly that he forgets his name. 

“I really would like to do that one day,” Louis says quietly, running his thumb over Harry’s jaw. “Propose to you all big and fancy one day, get you a ring that’s just as pretty as you are.” 

“You don’t have to do it like that. We could be lowkey, too,” Harry replies, kissing him gently. 

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, we’re gonna go big. You deserve the whole  _ universe _ , I’m gonna try to give it to you, baby.” 

Harry smiles at him, and Louis feels like the starlight is finally poking through a cloudy night. Harry laughs softly, suddenly, kissing Louis’ cheek. “What’s so funny?” Louis asks, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Nothing.” Harry shakes his head, still smiling goofily. Louis wants this for fucking  _ ever.  _ “Just really fucking happy, that’s all.” 

Louis takes Harry’s face in both his hands, drawing him closer and kissing him deeply. “I’ve thought about it a lot more than I’ve let on.” Harry says, breaking away again. “I’d picture a ring on my finger and I’d have dreams of my groom at my wedding and the ring was on his finger and it was always you.” 

“I know we just had this big love declaring moment, but all of a sudden I  _ really  _ want to fuck you.” 

“And  _ I’m  _ the one who gets revved up talking about the future,” Harry says jokingly. Louis kisses him again. 

  
  


“He was made for shit like that.” Lottie says over the phone, sighing heavily. “I’ve only met him, like, twice, but I feel like I know him in and out with how much you talk about him. He was made for that family, white-picket-fence life.” 

“I’d marry him any day of the week.” Louis says softly, looking at the sleeping boy at the head of the bed. “Any time, anywhere.” 

“I think Grace’s heart transplant is the smallest adventure you guys will ever have together. I’m proud of you, bro, settling down. I’ll let you go now, since you’re probably waiting to fuck or something.” With that, Lottie hangs up without waiting for Louis to even say goodbye. 

Louis sighs, abandoning his phone at the end of the bed and crawling up Harry’s body, dropping gentle kisses on his bare back every so often. “Hi,” Harry croaks, pulling Louis in close. “Come here, cuddle with me before Grace comes in and disrupts the peace. How’re you feeling this morning?” 

“Better now.” Louis replies softly, kissing Harry’s head. “Was a nasty migraine. Can’t believe you convinced me to take  _ another _ personal day. You’re not supposed to see me like that. All gross and sickly. We have sex, super hot sex, you’re supposed to see me as hot and satisfactory.” 

Harry laughs, kissing Louis’ forehead. “I do find you hot. And you’re far more than satisfactory. You had a migraine. Not the plague. You’ve consoled my daughter and I through a heart transplant, gotten her through a stomach bug  _ and  _ a dream about her mother. And you’ve helped me all those times I freaked out about… us or Grace, so. We’re even now.” 

“I’m gonna be thirty-two in December.” Louis says suddenly, the thought hitting him like a train. “I’m only, like, ten-ish years younger than my mum was when… when she died.” 

“ _ Lou _ . Thirty-two isn’t even old. You’re like Peter Pan, you know? Never wanna grow up.” 

Louis shrugs, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to live longer than his mother did. “I got tested, you know. Soon as she got sick. Leukemia really doesn’t appear to be an inherited disease, but we all got tested anyway. We all came out good back then, and I’m sure it’s all still the same now.” 

Harry exhales a deep breath, like a sigh of relief, like he was waiting to find out of Louis was going to make it past forty-three. “That’s good, Lou. We really don’t have to talk about it anymore.” 

“I know. But I feel like I should tell you these things about me. If we’re living together and if one day I want to marry you. I should tell you things like this, baby.”   
“I like knowing things about you. And you should know that I like when you call me baby.” 

“I’ll call you baby as much as you like, baby,” Louis gives him an over-exaggerated wink, and Harry laughs. They both sober up again rather quickly. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. You know, you’re—” 

Harry’s sentence gets cut off when there’s a knock at the bedroom door, Grace’s voice ringing through the wood. “Dad, it’s already half ten and you said we’d be at the mall by eleven.” 

“We’re almost ready, G.” Harry replies. “Go start the car or something.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, Grace. We’ll be down in a few.” 

Louis laughs and sits up while Grace’s feet can be heard racing down the hallway. “It’s only a matter of time before she’s driving herself.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Harry turns his nose up, sitting upright and watching Louis move about the room. “Can you toss me a shirt?” 

He complies, beginning to get dressed himself. By the time Louis’ pulled on all of his clothes — even his shoes — Harry is still sitting on the bed, shirtless. “I should’ve left the room, I guess. You were that perv in the locker room, then?” 

Harry reaches a bare foot out and pushes Louis’ thigh with his toes. “I wasn’t. I was never in the locker room with boys as pretty as you, so it was really never much of an issue.” 

“Flattery,” Louis pauses, bending down and kissing him, “will get you everywhere. Get dressed, I’m gonna go make sure your daughter doesn’t crash the car through the garage.” 

He leaves Harry in the bedroom, finding Grace shutting the garage door. “I started the car.” Grace says, sounding proud. “I dunno why dad would want to waste gas like that, but I have a hunch he just wanted to get me away.” 

Louis laughs, pulling his jacket on. “What’re we on the hunt for at the mall today?” 

“Anything.” Grace replies. “Where’s dad?” 

“He’s coming. Takes him awhile to get ready, are you always waiting around for him?” 

“Sometimes I think if I weren’t here, his life would fall apart and he’d have no structure anymore.” Grace sighs, shaking her head. “Can I wait in the car?” 

“Yeah, love. Go for it.” 

Louis gets a water bottle from the fridge while he waits for Harry to come downstairs, leaning against the counter and just  _ waiting.  _ Harry comes down, finally, after a few minutes of waiting, pulling a jacket on as he comes into the kitchen. “Come on,” Harry says. “What are you waiting for? You’re driving, by the way.” 

“What?” 

“You’re driving,” Harry repeats, holding the garage door open for him. “I don’t want to, Grace can’t, so you’re driving.” 

Louis, even though it’s something unnatural to him, does it anyway. He drives himself and Harry and Grace to the mall — almost a half hour car ride — and Harry controls the radio the whole day and Grace asks him a dozen questions about a dozen different things. Louis can’t believe how normal it feels, how much he can’t wait to have this forever. 

Inside the mall, Grace conveniently runs into two of her best friends, and she convinces Harry to let her run off with them. “That’s funny,” Harry says, turning and looking at Louis. “I guess it’s good that they’re here. Now it’s kind of like we’re on a date.” 

“You think that’s just a happy coincidence that her friends are here?” Louis laughs. Harry gives him a funny look. “Harold, they planned that. They texted each other and said  _ hey, meet at the mall at this time  _ and they met here, probably will link up with a few more.” 

Harry looks at him, wide eyed. “What? How do you know that? Did she tell you that?” 

“No, but it’s what kids do. I did it, my sisters did it. All kids do it,” Louis says with a shrug, looking at the different stores around them. “You can go tail her, if you don’t trust her. But I’d say she’s fine.” 

“You’re good at that kind of stuff.” Harry notes, the expression on his face softening from alarm to… softness. “With kids.”

“I have a lot of sisters. And I’m a pediatric heart surgeon, I’m around kids a lot. And I like kids, anyway.”

They start walking, Harry sliding his hand in Louis’ and putting his other hand on his arm, rubbing his thumb in circles. “Do you think you’d want that? Kids? Because, like, obviously Grace is  _ mine  _ and I don’t know how much of a father you’ll ever be able to be or want to be, but. Would you want kids of your own?” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve always wanted kids. You want more?” Louis can’t believe they’re just having this conversation  _ now,  _ after they’ve already moved in together and have already confessed wanting to  _ marry  _ each other. It’s not like either of Harry’s answers — yes or no — would change Louis’ mind about anything they’ve said to each other. 

“Always have, ever since I had Grace. I love Grace, but it’s been twelve years. I miss having a baby,” Harry replies, soft smile on his face. “This is gonna sound like I’m going to tail Grace, but I really want to go to the food court and get something. D’you want anything?” 

“Pretzels. I’ll be around, alright? I’ve gotta find new pants and stuff.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you in a few,” Harry kisses him on the cheek and heads off into the bustling mall. 

Louis pulls a one-eighty and heads for the jewelry store he spotted when they first walked in. He browses a little bit, looking at the different rings and not really processing any of them. All of a sudden, one catches his eye and Louis stops dead in his tracks. It’s a pretty, shiny, silver band with a small blue jewel in the middle. It looks like it’d go nicely on Harry’s finger, right next to all of his other rings. 

“Can I help you today?” A cheerful voice asks, startling Louis out from his daydream about the ring on Harry’s finger. 

Louis looks up, greeted by a pretty young girl with a big smile on her face. “Um, not sure yet, actually. Kind of came in here on a whim,” Louis admits, even though it’s not entirely true. 

“I’ve worked here for awhile, and I’ve found that people don’t come in here on a whim.” The girl laughs, looking down at the rings in the display case. “Which one are you looking at?” 

Louis points. “How much is it? The one with the blue diamond, or whatever that is.” 

“It’s sapphire. And it’s going for right up near five hundred pounds. But, if you really wanted it, I’m sure we could knock the price down a bit. Maybe cry a little bit, give me a sob story,” the girl winks, grin still on her face. 

“It’s for my boyfriend. We’ve only been dating for a few months, but we’re on the same page about everything. And he has a twelve-year-old daughter. And I operated on her. Heart transplant. I think…” Louis trails off, staring at the ring as the woman places it in his hand. “I can buy this right now? On my card, and walk out with it?” 

“If that’s what you want. Do you know his ring size?” 

“Yeah, actually. I’m almost ballparking a little bit, but there’s facts behind it.” Louis says, smiling at the girl. 

And, a few minutes later, Louis is walking out with a small bag and a big dumb smile on his face. He pops into a clothing store and buys a random pair of pants that he doesn’t even really like and probably won’t even fit him just to put the jewelry store bag in to hide it. On his way out, he walks right into Harry, who has a pretzel bag in one hand and a cup in another.

“You were right,” Harry says, handing Louis the pretzels. “About Grace. They were in the food court. A few more of them. And  _ boys.”  _

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “She’s twelve years old, H. That’s expected, and I don’t think that it’s really worth worrying about.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, she’s not your  _ daughter.  _ Wait till you have one of your own, then come talk to me about not worrying,” Harry says dismissively, almost turning his nose up in disgust. “I  _ am _ trying not to worry about it.” 

Louis grabs Harry’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He feels Harry’s rings against his own fingers, and imagines the cool silver band among them. He almost wants to blurt it out right there, wants to whip the ring out and propose in the middle of the shopping mall. But he restrains, because he wants to make it special, and he doesn’t want to jump the gun. Sure, he and Harry are on the same page. They’ve been on the same page for ages and Louis absolutely  _ loves  _ that they’re on the same page. But they  _ just  _ talked about it, not even twenty-four hours ago, and even though there’s no such thing as too soon at this point, he thinks it might be too soon. 

They run into Grace and her friends in the middle of some bath and body shop, Harry sniffing bath bombs and perfumes and hand lotions and adding several different things to the basket on his arm. Grace is holding hands with one of the boys Harry mentioned seeing before and Louis thinks Harry almost just  _ dies _ , right there in the middle of this smelly shop. He complains to Louis about how he told him that there was no need to worry, and Louis tells him to shut up and kisses him and tells him that it’ll all be okay and reminds him that Grace is only twelve-years-old. 

Another hour later, Grace meets them by where they came in with a big smile on her face. On the car ride home — which Harry drives — Grace tells them all about her friends and the boys they saw running around in Victoria’s Secret. When Grace’s talking finally trails off and she starts singing to the radio, Harry spares Louis a glance. “D’you think you can ask her about it?” he asks softly. “Her friends. The  _ boy.”  _

Louis laughs. “What makes you think she’ll talk to me about it?” 

“Because you’re not her dad. And she likes you. Just talk to her, please?” 

“I will. But I… I don’t know if I can parent her, you know what I mean?” Louis knows he can’t really do that, he can’t parent her like she’s his own daughter. But if Harry wants him to talk to Grace, then Louis will do it. 

“Oh, I know. I’d never ask you to, like, step in like that if you’re not comfortable with it. I’d just really appreciate it if you got something out of her.” 

“I will do my best, Styles.” 

Harry looks in the rearview mirror, checking to see if Grace is paying attention. “That Tomlinson jersey, the footie one, you know? I’d want to wear that all the time. Your last name.” 

“Consider it yours, then.” 

“No,” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “That went right over your head. I meant I’d want your last name. You know, if we ever get married.” 

Louis’ heart almost falls out his ass. Again, he almost whips out the ring right there. Louis is an idiot, of course that’s what Harry meant. “You would?” 

“We can talk about it later, along with you being a father to Grace, or not.” Harry says. “After you get information out of her about her friends.” 

 

“Did you talk to her?” Harry asks, sitting up in bed as soon as Louis comes in the room. 

“Yeah, but it’s a secret. All I’ll tell you is that you don’t need to worry. I promise,” Louis replies, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “Are you going to strip me or do I have to do it by myself?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, reaching forward and shucking Louis’ shirt over his head. “You won’t tell me what she said? You’re gonna be the cool dad, then?” 

Louis smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna try to be her dad. You’re her dad.” 

“I kind of want you to feel like her dad, you know? Even if you have to be the cool dad. Do you want to be?” 

“The cool dad, of course I’m going to be the cool dad.” Louis says, sitting cross-legged opposite him on the mattress. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for Grace too, obviously. It’s been just you and her for twelve years. I don’t ever want to overstep. I know what it’s like to have someone step in and try to be a parent when, really, they don’t have any place. It happened to me with all the guys my mum would bring home when it was just the two of us. But I do… I want to be some kind of dad to her, H. I think that’s something really important to me.” 

“That’s important to be too.” Harry says softly. 

“Even when my mum was still around I was like… the dad in my house for a really long time. I did a lot for the girls. And they’re all grown up now and my mum’s gone and I… I never realized how much I missed having a family like that until I met you. Losing my mum and having all the girls grow up left this… big ass hole, for lack of a better term, in me and… you and Grace kind of fill it up.” Louis admits, feeling cut open and vulnerable as he sits on Harry’s bed wearing nothing but his jeans. 

“I never thought I’d get something like this again. Lauren left and  _ that  _ left a big ass hole in me, too. I never thought anything would fit in there quite right, I never thought anyone would fit. But you do, I want you there and I want you to feel like you’re involved in Grace’s life like that,” Harry tells him. 

Louis feels like he’s got the whole fucking universe inside his body. The stars dance on his tongue when he leans forward and kisses Harry again, there’s comets in the tear he wipes from Harry’s cheek. He and Harry are a pair of binary stars coming together in a breathtaking stellar collision that Louis wants to bathe in. The silver ring in his pocket feels like a fucking bolide, bright and powerful and like something that’s always going to keep him guessing. 

The silver ring in his pocket feels like it’s about to set off a sonic boom heard for miles and miles. The silver ring in his pocket feels like a promise, just the smallest glimpse of what’s to come. 

“I’ll make you Harry Tomlinson one day.” Louis whispers, smoothing a thumb across Harry’s cheek. Louis swears he hears the ring in his pocket chorus  _ yes, do it, make him yours  _ along with the beat of his heart and the feeling in his gut.  _ Make him yours, keep him forever.  _

 

 **your hand**  
touching mine  
this is how  
galaxies  
collide   
-Sanober Khan

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! please come yell at me on twitter (allgonnamakeit_) and on tumblr (alwaysbearound) or drop some kudos/comments on my archive!!!!


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